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doomhands-jr · 4 months ago

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 11

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Not much. This is a dialogue and processing chapter, though there is a scene of religious anxiety. ALSO THIS IS UN-BETAD TRASH. If you find any corrections I should to make, please DM them to me.

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Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

____

You had no semblance of how much time had passed from when you first stirred to when you finally opened your eyes. It could have been ten minutes, or it could have been three hours. Waking up took the level of effort one would expect from a task like climbing out of quicksand—every pause had you sinking further back into a pit of unconsciousness.

The first thing you noticed was the pounding in your head. That was all you registered the first three times you attempted to wake. The fourth time, you registered a vile taste in your mouth. Cold metal, mixed with stale liquor, mixed with mold, mixed with acid.

You fell asleep again for a while longer after that. When you stirred again, you could tell you weren’t in your room, judging by the smell and the feel of the mattress. The bed was firmer than yours. It smelled familiar, but your head was so cloudy that you couldn’t place where you knew it from.

Then you were under again, pulled into yet another dreamless sleep. At some point, you opened your eyes to see blurry light peeking out from an unfamiliar window, and that’s all you had time to register before slipping away again.

The next time you woke, it took. Lids filled with lead, you kept them closed for several minutes, but your fingers twitched against the polyester comforter covering you and you breathed deep, recognizing the smell a little more, but still having trouble placing it, visions of cinnamon lattes and rain drifting across your closed lids.

You wiggled your toes, the sleep paralysis finally beginning to release its hold over you inch by inch. After a few more minutes, you opened your eyes. It took some more time before the blurriness in your vision began to clear enough for you to study your surroundings.

The room was familiar—you’d seen it once before. Perhaps in a dream. Or in a photo. It was as if bits of cotton and fluff had been stuffed into the crevices of your brain and it was a struggle for you to think past them.

There was an element of danger to waking up in a strange room. You recognized that, but there was no emotion tied to the thought. No panic. No adrenaline: your nervous system was still asleep.

Realization crashed into you like a wave when you looked over to the edge of the bed and saw a familiar tattooed hand peeking out from a black sleeve. A head of brown hair rested on the arm and suddenly you knew where you recognized the room from—it was in the background of the video chat you’d had with Noah.

As if the realization had taken all your remaining brain power, you let your head fall back onto the pillow and closed your eyes again, feeling your head throb with every heartbeat.

This was Noah’s room. You were in Noah’s room.

How did you get here?

You were at a party last night. That much you remember. You’d had a few drinks. Maybe you’d gotten drunker than you realized and that was why you couldn’t remember anything.

Nick had said he wouldn’t let you get drunk.

That’s right. You were with Nick.

Your eyes flew open. You had kissed Nick. The two of you had been dancing. And then you were making out. The memories came to you in flashes, as if you were flipping through a photo album.

So how did you get in Noah’s room?

You lifted your head as much as you could to get a better look.

Noah sat on the floor, back against a dresser. He was slumped over to the side, resting his arm on the mattress, forehead on forearm while his hair spilled over like a curtain, hiding the side of his face.

Mustering all the strength you could, you pressed your palms into the mattress and pushed yourself into a half-sitting position against the headboard.

The movement must have startled Noah because he awoke the opposite of you: with a sharp inhale, his head snapping up, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

“Angel.” The word fell softly from his lips, and there was relief coded into it. He sat up, shifting to face you. The arm that had been on the bed drifted closer, reaching toward you before he thought better of it and pulled it back.

Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out. At least not at first. It was a few tense seconds of eye contact before you spoke.

“Noah…” Your throat cracked painfully when you spoke, and you realized how dry your mouth was.

“Shh,” he soothed, reaching up for a glass of water that sat on the nightstand and offering it to you. “Here.”

You took it gratefully, noticing how cold and unfamiliar the tips of his fingers were when your brushed them.

You sipped, the water soothing your throat and lubricating your vocal folds. “Why am I here?” you asked. “What happened?”

Noah watched you with caution, face falling.

Something was off—he was reluctant he was to answer your question. The look he gave you made you squirm uncomfortably.

“Tell me,” you said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head to break whatever thought he was trapped in. “Um,” he began, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Your stomach sank.

“First of all, you’re safe. Nothing happened. Nick and I made sure you were taken care of.”

“You…what?” His words were concerning. Why did he have to make a point that you were safe? Had there been a time when you weren’t?

“Also, we caught the guy. He’s in police custody.”

Your heart began to race. “What guy?” you asked, breath growing tense and rapid. “Noah, what happened?”

Noah bit his lip, eyebrows pulling together in a mix of emotions you couldn’t decipher. “Someone was slipping stuff into girls’ drinks last night. We caught him before anything happened, but you were drugged.”

It all came out too fast before you could make any sense of it.

“And you were in pretty rough shape last night.”

The words hung in the air, unabsorbed as you blinked stupidly at him. You’d heard them, but there was something preventing you from processing them.

“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside the bed so he could see your reaction. He reached out again, this time to grab your hand and you pulled it away out of instinct, body on autopilot. He flinched away, looking hurt for half a second before training his features into something calmer.

“Give me a second,” you said. He nodded.

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, and you slumped forward, feeling the saliva and bile seep into your mouth. You gagged.

Noah jumped into action, grabbing an empty bucket from beside the bed and tucking it under your chin. You gagged a few more times but nothing came up, so you sat back against the headboard, wiping at your irritated eyes.

You waited, allowing your stomach to settle again before entertaining any thoughts.

You’d been drugged.

It was too big of a thought to process all at once. Your mind didn’t have enough elasticity to wrap itself around something like that—you had to start smaller.

“How did I get here?”

“Right,” said Noah. “Nick and I brought you back here.”

“Why didn’t you bring me to my dorm?” you asked. The questions were coming rapid fire now.

“We couldn’t find your keys,” Noah answered, not missing a beat. He seemed eager to explain. You were grateful that he also seemed to recognize your need to digest the information in bits and pieces.

“They should be in my purse. Where is it?” you asked.

Noah shrugged.

It hit you how strange it was seeing his face again. There was a part of you that acknowledged how much you’d missed him. Another part recognized how angry you still were at him, but all of that was overshadowed by the information you were learning.

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “It’s probably back at Jolly’s. We can go get it if you want.”

“In a bit,” you said, leaning back against the pillows and taking a sip of water. The thought of getting out of bed and doing anything right now caused your anxiety to spike once more. You had to calm down. You could feel yourself getting worked up and knew that eventually, your emotions would surface and spill over, but you had questions you needed answered first.

“How did I get here?” you asked again, this time gesturing the bed. “Last I knew, I was with Nick.”

Noah looked entirely uncomfortable once again, but he willfully pushed past his discomfort to answer you.

“Well, uh,” he said, his voice low and soft, as if not to startle you. “You started vomiting. It got all over your clothes, so one of us had to remove them. I volunteered since…,” he trailed off.

“…since what?” you asked, not understanding what he was getting at. Thinking was still difficult. It was like your brain was trudging through mud to form thoughts.

“Since I’d already seen you.”

When his answer finally registered, you exhaled a deep, regretful breath. It was a truth you didn’t want to remember or acknowledge. At the time you’d been excited, but now you were ashamed and embarrassed that you’d been so easy.

That was another conversation you needed to have with Noah. But not right at that moment.

“Angel, I’m so sorry I didn’t—,”

“—I don’t want to talk about it.” The words were out of your mouth before you’d even processed them, body once again going on autopilot. Noah’s face fell. “I’m sorry,” you followed up, softening. “We can talk about it later. Just not right now.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“Where are my clothes?” you asked.

“Nick put them in the washer last night,” he said, standing up. “I can go check on them.”

Perhaps he was eager to escape the discomfort that had settled between the two of you in the wake of all the events that had taken place, or perhaps he just wanted to do something for you. Either way, Noah got up and padded across the room, pausing at the door to make sure you were okay.

When you nodded, he slipped through the door, leaving you alone to process your thoughts.

As soon as he was gone, you felt like you could breathe again. You inhaled deeply, now free to think and feel without being observed by anyone, which was initially what you thought you wanted.

But without him as an anchor, intrusive thoughts crept in.

God’s punishing you.

It came as a whisper in the back of your mind, and at first you brushed it off—a stray remnant thought leftover from all the time you were steeped in church culture.

But then it got louder.

You brought this on yourself, you know. This is what’s waiting for you when you stray from the path of righteousness.

You squeezed your eyes shut. The thoughts were familiar. Ever since childhood, you’d had this voice in your head, but you knew what it was. It was the voice that arose any time you did something that someone else said was wrong, or anytime something bad happened. It was the one that said God was punishing you for some sin you’d committed.

You could tune the voice out now, though. You knew it was just anxiety.

It’s not anxiety. It’s a warning.

You swallowed, excess saliva having pooled on either side of your tongue. It wasn’t a warning. Your brain was lying to you.

You’re going to Hell if you keep acting like this.

You clenched your jaw. It was a lie.

It’s not a lie.

It’s a lie.

Your hands shook, and you struggled to catch your breath. Tears began leaking out. You hated feeling like this. This was the same feeling you used to get after every mistake. Any time you drifted from the narrow path laid out by the church.

Atone for your sins. Go back to church.

The shaking in your hands had progressed up your arms until it reached your chest, causing your breath to hitch, and you knew you were about to start crying. Not because you believed the voice, but because you couldn’t get it to leave you alone.

You’re going to Hell. If you don’t go back to church and believe in what they tell you, you’re going to Hell. You’ll burn for your sins.

You rocked back and forth, clutching onto yourself as you spiraled. Visions of you burning in a lake of fire flashed before your eyes. Your skin prickled all over and you struggled to breathe.

You didn’t register the door opening from across the room.

“Your clothes need more time to dry…oh shit!”

You heard Noah bound across the room and before you knew it, his arms were around you and your head was buried into his chest.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he said, stroking your back as he rocked you back and forth. “I’ve got you.”

The deep pressure was just enough to tether you to Noah. Solid, sturdy Noah who slowly pulled you back to the present. And though, at that moment, you wished it was anyone other than him holding you, you were still grateful.

“What happened?” he asked, once your breathing had slowed.

You shook your head, not even wanting to voice your thoughts, as if saying them aloud would make them more real. If he could just hold you for a while, that would be enough.

“Okay,” he said, clutching you tighter. “Okay, we don’t have to talk.”

You focused on your breathing, in for four counts. Hold for four. Out for four. Hold for four. Repeat. You latched on to the scent of spiced oil—the scent you remembered fondly. You breathed it in deeply, allowing it to fill your nostrils and keep you grounded.

Your heart rate slowed. You pressed your forehead into the soft black cotton of the hoodie Noah wore, sliding your cheek over the fibers. You blinked back tears, eyes landing on a small hole near the pocket of the basketball shorts Noah wore.

Touch. Smell. Sight.

At least three out of your five senses were activated, and it was enough to pull you securely back to the present. The thoughts no longer consumed you, but they still lingered in your psyche and you were unable to fully relax.

With great effort, you cleared your throat.

“I’m going to say something,” you said. “I need you to tell me if it’s true.”

Noah squeezed your shoulder in affirmation. “Okay.”

“I am not being punished for leaving the church.”

Though you had been afraid that voicing your concerns would make them real, speaking them aloud had the opposite effect—your fears reduced in size as soon as the words were out.

“Jesus,” Noah remarked in disbelief, “Is that what you thought?”

“True or false?”

“No, you’re not being punished for leaving the church,” he said with a sigh. “Where is this coming from?”

Noah pulled away to look at you and you struggled to meet his eyes, focusing still on the small rip in his shorts instead.

“It’s something I heard a lot growing up,” you confessed. “If I turned away from God, I’d find nothing but pain and misery.”

You chanced a glance back up at Noah. He worried at his bottom lip, eyes focused on something on the ceiling and brows pulled together. His fingers tightened where they gripped your shoulder.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” said Noah, shaking his head. He situated himself against the wall so that he could sit comfortably next to you. You were touching at the knees and shoulders, and you wondered if he noticed as much as you did. Despite the anger and hurt you still had with him, you couldn’t help but lean into him a little.

“It’s not you. It just bothers me how much they try to control people. And they don’t care about the way it fucks them up.”

His words hit harsh and you flinched.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, looking over to you. His face was intimidatingly close. You tried to look up at him, but the eye contact was too intimate, so you wound up staring somewhere between the bottom of his nose and his upper lip. “I don’t think you’re fucked up. I just hate that you have to worry about this. You’ve been through enough.”

“Thank you,” you said, and in the silence that followed, your thoughts began to settle. The knowledge that you’d been drugged was no longer too big for you to process. You were reaching a state of acceptance.

“I don’t think you turned away from God, by the way,” said Noah. You looked up to see him quietly regarding you. This time the eye contact was tolerable.

“What?” you asked.

“You said that the church told you that if you turned away from God, you’d find nothing but pain. I don’t think you turned away from God. Maybe you turned away from the church, but not God.”

You twisted his words around in your head, examining them as they worked to combat some of the negative thoughts in your head.

“I thought you didn’t believe in God?” you asked.

It was Noah’s turn to look away. He sniffed once and tucked some hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, well…,” he trailed off, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

You let him avoid your question for the time being, but you couldn’t help the corner of your mouth from quirking up, feeling as though you’d caught him in a moment of vulnerability he never meant for you to see.

“I should go,” you said, hoisting yourself up off the bed and stretching. “I need to get my purse.”

“I can walk you,” Noah offered, mirroring your actions. “I’d feel better not leaving you alone.”

You weren’t planning on company. In fact, you could probably use some alone time to gather your thoughts, but being on better terms with Noah felt really good, and you wanted to enjoy it for a little longer before you got to work processing everything else that had happened, so you agreed.

Noah smiled, and you were greeted with his too-big front teeth. The sight of it ripped off the scab that had grown over the wound he’d left on your heart, leaving just enough space for him to crawl his way back in.

Uh oh. _____

That feeling stayed with you for the rest of the day, and you wished it wouldn’t. It was much easier when you’d written him off as a player and could focus on your self-discovery without thinking about him. Now that he’d weaseled his way back into your life, you were more confused than ever.

Rather than try to sort out exactly how you felt, however, you decided to distract yourself with Ava. As soon as you got back to your room and charged your phone, you were hit with several alarmed texts from her.

Ava: 3:08 AM: OMG Nick just told me what happened!!!! Are you okay?!?!?!

Ava: 3:22 AM: Text me as soon as you get this!

Ava: 10:55 AM: Girl! Where are you?!?!

Rather than text her back, you pressed the call button. When she answered, she sounded frenzied.

“Oh my God, where have you been?!” Her voice through the phone speaker came out tinny and shrill and you had to flinch away from the phone, head still pounding from the after-effects of the drug. As if she sensed she’d had a bad start, she immediately lowered her voice. “Sorry, I don’t mean to yell. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you said softly. “My head hurts, but I’m fine. I could use some company though. Are you busy?”

“What do you need?” she asked. “Are you at your dorm? Want me to bring food?”

“Just company,” you said, sighing back into your mattress. “That’s it.”

“I’m already on my way.”

_____

Ava arrived fifteen minutes later with a massive duffel bag. Once she greeted you with a hug, she got to work pulling out various comfort items she’d brought with her.

Within thirty seconds, your desk was covered in an array of face masks, bottles of coconut water, electrolyte drinks, painkillers, and several snacks, both salty and sweet.

“I also brought this in case you felt like doing a hair-of-the-dog,” she said, pulling a bottle of champagne out from the bottom of the duffel.

It was a lot. You probably could have anticipated that she’d go to such lengths to make you feel better, but her energy was too intense for you to digest.

“Thanks,” you said, scanning the contents of the table and grabbing a bottle of coconut water.

As abrasive as her energy was, she was right. As soon as you took the first few sips of coconut water, you started to feel better.

Ava, to her credit, quickly picked up on the fact that you weren’t responding favorably to her energy and stayed quiet after that, allowing you to take in everything for a few moments. “How are you?” she said after you’d taken your first few sips. This time, her voice was soft and tender.

“I’m okay,” you assured. “A little roughed up, but I think I’ll be fine.” You wanted to tell her that Noah helped talk you through it, but thought better of it. She might latch onto that detail and make it into a bigger deal than it was, and honestly you didn’t feel like answering questions regarding whatever was going on between you and Noah.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, helping herself to a seat on your bed.

Sitting beside her, you offered a noncommittal shrug. “What all did Nick tell you?”

“Not much,” she said, taking the bottle of champagne off your nightstand and twisting the cork out with a satisfying pop. She took a careful sip of it before offering it to you.

“No thanks,” you said, holding up a palm.

“He just told me that there’d been an incident, and you’d been slipped something. That he and Noah were taking care of you and that Noah beat the guy up.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Noah beat him up?” you asked. This was news to you.

She blinked, tilting her head at you. “Yeah,” she said, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you talk to him at all?”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid this conversation forever, but you had hoped you could hold out a little longer. That was the problem with being known as well as Ava knew you—you couldn’t hide from her for long.

“We talked,” you said. “He didn’t mention anything like that.”

“What did you talk about?” she asked, regarding you with careful and practiced neutrality.

Ava had an opinion she wasn’t sharing and you knew it. She was putting you on the spot to see if her opinion was correct.

“He just helped me process everything,” you said, training your voice to match the neutrality of her face.

She took another sip of champagne, savored it in her mouth for a moment and then swallowed. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding.

“Out with it,” you said, growing impatient. Better to just rip the band-aid off.

“Do you know what you want with Noah?” she asked, words coming out rushed, as if pressure had been building up behind them.

“No,” you said firmly. “And I’d rather not torture myself trying to figure it out.”

Her eyes held the same concern that Noah’s had that morning, as if you were a fragile, delicate flower in danger of being crushed.

“You know I’m here to talk about it if you need,” she said. You could tell it was coming from a place of concern, but if you knew Ava as well as she knew you, it was also coming from a place of curiosity, and wanting to ease the tension of not knowing what was going to happen.

“I understand your concern,” you said. “You don’t want me to get hurt again.”

“I don’t,” she said, wrapping her arms around you, and the gesture contained an unspoken apology for pressing a matter you clearly didn’t want to discuss.

She was sweet though, and you knew it came from a good place, so you relented.

“He tried to bring up what happened, but I said I didn’t want to discuss it at the time.”

She gave you a firm squeeze, causing the champagne to slosh against the side of the bottle. “Do you think you will in the future?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Probably sooner rather than later. Just not right now. I’m too tired,” you said, punctuating it with a yawn.

“I bet,” she said.

“Can we talk about something easier?” you asked, slumping against the headboard. “How was your time with Hera?”

“We, uh…,” she trailed off, bashful smile playing on her lips. Your jaw fell open. “Did you…?”

The smile grew into her full, toothy grin and a flush crept over her cheeks.

“Shut up! How was it?” you asked, grateful for the change in subject.

“It was amazing,” she said, stars in her eyes as she stared dreamily off into a corner of the room. She sighed, likely still picturing it, before launching into a detailed explanation of how her night had consisted of a slow flirtation that had quickly grown into a banter and culminated in Hera kissing her once they’d gotten back to her dorm, which then led to Ava spending the night and ‘losing her lesbian virginity’ as she’d put it.

You smiled, relaxing into the pillows of your bed and observing her as she spoke animatedly about her evening, lighting up from within, and you couldn’t remember ever seeing her this happy. You hadn’t spent much time with Hera, but if she made Ava this happy, she was someone you wanted to get to know more.

“So who’s better in bed,” you asked after she was done. “Nick or Hera?”

“Hera, for sure,” she said. “But Nick could give her a run for her money. The man knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh my God,” you said, sitting up. “I forgot to tell you. Nick and I made out!”

“What?!” she squealed, half-spilling the bag of sour cream and cheddar chips that the two of you had been sharing. “Why didn’t you mention it earlier?!”

“I kind of forgot,” you admitted. “A lot happened, but yeah.”

“Who moved first?” she asked, picking up the chips she’d spilled and popping them into her mouth one by one.

“He did. We were dancing and then he pulled me in and kissed me,” you confessed, “I wasn’t expecting it at all.” You plucked the half-drunk bottle of champagne off the nightstand next to you and took a careful swig. Your headache had finally subsided, but you were still feeling some leftover brain fog.

“How was it?” she asked, tearing off the foil edge of a face mask pack and sliding the mask out.

You shrugged, grabbing a mask for yourself while she smoothed hers onto her cheeks. “It was fun, I guess. The whole night was sort of a blur by that point.”

“Did you talk to him at all after? What did he say?” she asked. She poured some of the leftover serum from the packet out into her palms and began smoothing it over her chest and arms.

“I didn’t, actually. He was still asleep when I left. Oh wait!,” you said, fetching your phone from where it was still connected to the charger. “I think I have a text from him.”

“What does it say?!”

You tapped on it a few times—the residue from your mask smearing over the screen and making it difficult to open. “He’s asking if he can come over…or well, he was asking. That was a couple of hours ago.”

“What are you going to say?” she asked.

“I’m having fun just us,” you said, fingers already busy texting a reply. “But I’m inviting him over tomorrow after my Lit final.”

“I should probably study for those, by the way,” she said, but she made no move to get up.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the sheet mask crinkle with the movement.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, waving your concerns away. “I only have one actual final. The rest are projects I’ve already finished.”

You also felt confident that you knew the material enough that you could pass without too much studying. Besides, a good night’s sleep was probably going to help you pass more than pouring over your textbooks would.

“How do you feel about what happened last night before everything went down?” Ava asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Did you have a fun time with Nick?”

“I did,” you said. There was something you needed to admit to yourself, however, and probably to Ava as well.

“Can you tell me more?” she pressed.

You took a large sip of champagne to stall while you worked up the nerve. Too big, in fact: the carbonation compressed the neck of the bottle, causing bubbles to shoot up your nose and out of your mouth, coating your face in the sticky beverage.

Ava couldn’t help but laugh at your clumsiness and you followed suit. After using the corner of your duvet to wipe your face, you discarded the soiled face mask into the trash and sighed, struggling to meet Ava’s eyes because you knew what you were about to confess.

“Truth is,” you said, “part of me was hoping I’d lose my virginity last night.”

Ava’s mouth fell open, shock etched across her face. “What?! With Nick? I thought you didn’t want to.”

You hid your face in your palms, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t,” you said. “But then…,”

“Say no more,” she said. “I get it. He’s very disarming. It didn’t take long for me to hop on that train either.”

You relaxed, glad Ava understood what you meant. “Yes! Exactly, and it doesn’t even feel like a trick. I think he’s genuine about it.”

“He is,” she said, nodding. “He took care of me the whole time. Now I’m bummed you didn’t get to.”

You sighed. “It’s probably for the best,” you said.

“Why’s that?” Ava asked, peeling her own mask off and tossing it into the trash.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I just get the feeling it wouldn’t have solved my problem.”

“What problem, specifically?” she asked. It was a good question, but one you didn’t know the exact answer to. It lingered in the back of your head—a sort of quiet discontent and sense of unease. You knew it was related to the church, and had something to do with your sexuality, but couldn’t quite articulate what it was.

_____

“Hey,” said Nick as soon as you opened the door. You stepped aside to allow him more room. “Hard to believe it’s only been two days since I was in here last.”

He was referring to the décor, which you’d purchased that morning and had spent the last two hours hanging up. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a few items you found at a bargain store a few blocks from campus, but it made your room a little warmer than the barren wasteland it had been after you’d torn down all of your church-related posters.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping further into the room. “How are you?”

Nick spun around to face you, tilting his head to the side. “I’m good, thanks for asking. I’m more concerned about how you are though.”

You took a deep breath—something you’d been doing a lot of lately, and softened. “I’m okay,” you said. “Yesterday was kind of rough, but I’ve done a lot of processing and I think I’ll be fine.”

Nick searched your face for any sign of dishonesty and after finding none, he visibly relaxed, lips pulling up into a soft smile. “That’s good,” he said. “I’ve been kicking myself for the last two days for allowing you to get into a situation like that. I feel like I failed you.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “Nick, you didn’t fail me,” you said, moving across the room to sit cross-legged on your bed. Following your lead, Nick pulled the chair out from your desk and spun it to face you, sitting comfortably. “I don’t think it’s reasonable to expect you to predict every possible scenario and prevent it from happening. You did your best.”

His lower lip jutted out from his face in a pout. “I still wish I could have stopped it.”

“I know,” you said. “Me too. But these things happen. It sucks that they do, but you did a good job. As soon as you noticed something, you stepped in.”

“Noah stepped in,” he corrected.

You scowled, not about the fact that Noah was there, but because he wasn’t giving himself enough credit. “Are you going to make me comfort you all evening? Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

He breathed out half a snort. “I like when you check me.”

“I know,” you said, picking at the pilling on your flannel pajama bottoms, “considering I’m always having to do it.”

You looked up to find him unguarded, looking back at you with genuine fondness and the two of you shared a moment of warm sincerity. You really did like Nick, which made the conversation you were about to have with him all the more irksome.

You sucked in air through your teeth. “Nick…,” you started.

“Hold on,” he said, raising a palm to interject. “I have a feeling I know what you’re going to say, and I want to say something first.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to go on.

“I’m not going to apologize for kissing you, because I really did want to. And I enjoyed it.”

Your face twisted into a look of surprise, not expecting the turn in conversation.

“But,” he continued, “it probably didn’t make things easier for you with Noah the next morning, and for that, I am sorry. I hope it wasn’t too awkward.”

“We didn’t even talk about it,” you said. “Does Noah know we kissed?” Your stomach folded in on itself, chest seizing up at the idea. You had to manually relax your muscles, reminding yourself that you’d done nothing wrong.

Nick looked uncomfortable, eyes scanning over your bedspread rather than meeting your face and he drummed his fingers nervously on his knee. “Yeah,” he admitted.

You steadied your breathing, eyes flicking up to the ceiling in search of some sort of answer for how you should proceed. “What did he say?”

“He wasn’t exactly happy,” said Nick, smoothing his hands over his jeans. “We talked about it though, and I think he’s good. If he didn’t bring it up to you yesterday morning, he probably isn’t going to.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding to yourself. “Okay, I can work with that.”

“Have to talked to him since?” he asked. His eyebrows disappeared under the rim of his black beanie and you could see on his face just how much he cared for you and Noah, and how much it ate at him to think he’d caused problems.

“No,” you said, not enjoying how the answer felt coming out. “I know I should, but I’ve been taking some space. Wanting to sort some things out in my head.”

“I can respect that,” said Nick.

He waited for a few minutes, quietly regarding you as you checked in with yourself to see how you were feeling about the situation.

You knew you needed to talk to Noah. Over the last twenty four hours, you’d opened up the text thread that you had with him, typed out a few words, sighed, and closed it again without sending anything on several different occasions. Nothing felt right.

“How’s he doing?” you asked.

“He’s fine,” Nick said, but the slight shift in energy on his end led you to believe that it was more complicated than that.

“Are you guys okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “We talked about it. I explained everything and he said he understood. He’s not mad at either of us. He knows he fucked up and has no right to be upset.”

“I think he’s allowed to be upset, just not with us.”

“Right,” Nick said, nodding. “He’s frustrated by the situation, but he doesn’t have any resentment.”

You let out a long, slow breath. “That’s good,” you said.

A few beats passed, both of you knowing what needed to be discussed next, but neither wanting to bring it up.

When the tension grew too thick, you finally spoke up. “So about the kiss,” you said.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, words coming out rushed.

You nodded. “I didn’t think you did, but I wanted to make sure.”

Nick stood up, walking over to your bed and with a twitch of his eyebrows, wordlessly asking for permission to sit next to you. You nodded. He sat facing you, tucking his legs underneath him. “I really liked kissing you,” he said.

You flushed, not used to someone being so direct.

“But Noah is one of my best friends. And you’re quickly becoming someone important to me as well,” he continued, placing a gentle hand on your knee for emphasis. “I don’t want to fuck with either of your happiness. As much as I hate it, we probably can’t do that again.”

You chuckled, placing your hand over his and squeezing it. “I know,” you said. “It’s probably for the best.”

“Can I ask you something though?” he said, leaning towards you in earnest.

“Sure.”

“In an alternate universe where you’d never met Noah and hadn’t been brought up in the church,” he began and you smiled, already guessing where this was going, “what do you think would have happened.”

You bit your bottom lip, debating on whether or not to be honest with him, but your smile betrayed you. “I think you know.”

He beamed at you, glee radiating off of him. “That’s all I needed to know,” he said.

“What about you?” you asked. “Would you have?”

“Oh, in a heartbeat,” he said, needing no time to think it over. He brought his other hand to your leg, palms gently squeezing your thighs to emphasize his point.

Your eyes flicked from where his hands rested on your legs back up to his face and there were only a few times you could ever recall anyone looking at you with the desire that was etched across Nick’s face.

You could see it. A world where you and Nick met under different circumstances. As you scanned his face, you could feel the pull of him. Your eyes were drawn to his lower lip and it was reeling you in like a fish that had taken the bait.

It was a soft pull, though. One that you’d have entertained had you never gotten close with Noah and didn’t have religious trauma to work through before you could consider being intimate with anyone else.

You sat up straight, not realizing that during the course of the conversation, you’d been inching towards Nick, and he followed your lead, removing his hands from your thighs, though he still watched your face like he was considering throwing caution to the wind and going for what he wanted.

You rolled your shoulders, shaking off the heady cloud of lust that had settled over the two of you.

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m not sure I trust myself with that kind of stuff yet.”

Nick blinked back a few times, likely also still pulling back from his desire. “Yeah,” he said, sighing the word out. “Yeah, it’s not the easiest thing to navigate, especially for someone so new to it.”

An unexpected wave of disappointment washed over you. It was small, but not insignificant, and you realized just how difficult it was to say no to temptation. Not that you were concerned about the sin of it. It was just the realization that sometimes what you wanted went against your better judgement, and that choosing the right thing came with its own set of consequences.

“I’m gonna have to talk to Noah soon, aren’t I?”

Nick nodded, swallowing thickly as the last bit of desire released him from its clutches. “I think you do.”

And with that, you and Nick were back to platonic companions. It was bittersweet, but it was also the right move, and both of you knew it.

Besides, you had a feeling the upcoming conversation with Noah was going to be complicated enough. No need to throw another wrench into it.

A/N: Okay so I know the ending wasn't my best, but I was on a deadline and just wanted to get this chapter out so we could get to the NEXT chapter, which is where the real meat of the story is.

Also I have to write the taglist like this because tagging normally isn't working.

Let me know what you think! Sorry if it's a little rushed. Hope we're all okay with it though.

Taglist:

@traffordonna

@velvetlilacsdaisies

@sunsshinesunny

@rain-down-on-me

@friedchildblaze

@emilygalindo

@kat-rhi-lac

@sister-sebastian

@badomensls

@collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

@hoe-for-daddywise

@concretejungle420

@sleep-worship

@cncohshit

@adenobabe

@guacinyourarea

@excapingourexistence

@livingdeceasedgirl

@chxrryxox

@dem11

@starcrossedwasteland

@alm0std3add

@reyadawn

@karenfranco

@glam-cherry-bomb

@simpingforniragi

@koalakoala8

@themorticians-world

@sleepytoken99

@xmagdalenaxbrenaxorestes

@fuck-me-muke

@xmads-omensx

@just-random-stuff

@somebodyels3

@klutzy-kay24

@themorticians-world

@silentglassbreak

@ashlarz-blog

@noahsebastions

@cyber-tiny

@xxkittenkissesxx

@treacheryinblue

@flowerynerds

@1toreyouapart

@poisongirl616

#noah sebastian x reader #nick folio x reader #bad omens fic #the devil's advocate #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian #bad omens #fanfiction

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just-wrting · 1 year ago

Text

Secret Admirer

Title: Secret Admirer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You've been trying to figure out who keeps leaving you little notes and gifts. Despite everyone else knowing, you keep denying the obvious answer.

Word Count: 1721

Master List

A/N: This will probably be the only thing I write for Reid. I'm not super into him but when the List Randomizer spat out secret admirer I weirdly thought of him. I plan on trying to write a bunch of different characters from a bunch of different fandoms. Just whoever pops into my head I guess. Two will probably be posted Friday.

You aren’t sure when you noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that your desk was always clean. Maybe it was the little extra things that started to appear. Slowly but surely, you realized you had someone who was leaving you gifts and notes. You had a secret admirer.

Despite your efforts, no one on the team would say anything. For several weeks, you pressed the issue with the other BAU members, yet no one cracked. In fact, you were teased about being unable to figure it out. How could a member of the BAU not figure out their mystery admirer?

“Come on Garcia! I know you know. You have to tell me,” you plead with the tech genius. “You’ve literally been avoiding me. I know you know.”

She lets out a squeak before running to the safety of her lair. Morgan is giving you a smirk and shaking his head. Despite your scowl, he chooses to tease you.

“Come on, (L/N), can’t you figure it out? Who could be this mystery man leaving you gifts and fancy letters?” He laughs as he pokes the latest gift, a small stuffed version of your favorite animal.

“Hey, leave my new son out of this. What did he ever do to you?” you grumble, pulling it closer to you. “I didn’t even realize someone remembered such a little detail.”

“Maybe that means it’s been a long time crush.”

At that moment, Reid sets his bag down and takes a seat at his desk. You think you see Morgan’s grin get wider, but it’s hard to tell given how wide his smile usually is. It’s a picture perfect smile.

“That’s a relatively cute stuffed animal. I’ve actually been reading up on that one recently if you’d like to know more,” he offers. “Only if you’re interested of course.”

Reid gives you his charming boyish smile. It goes well with demeanor and you can’t help but find it cute.

“As long as you’re willing to leave out the creepy facts. I don’t even remember telling anyone my favorite animal,” you say with a smile. “Who would remember such a little detail?”

Morgan chimes back in, “Maybe someone with a perfect memory. Like what the kid has.”

You sigh. “Reid seems to like highly intelligent women with PhDs. I may be smart, but I’m not smart enough.”

Before anyone can protest, Hotch calls you all to the conference room for a case. While you’re sure Reid is nice enough to help whoever has a crush on you, you doubt you’d be his type. Maybe Reid is the perfect person to question about the mystery man.

—-

“Reid, (L/N), you two stay here and look through the papers,” Hotch orders before leaving the precinct.

You frown. What’s the point of having you here? Reid can read faster than you can. It’s almost like you’re just here for moral support in case he gets tired.

“Well now I feel useless,” you groan. “What am I even supposed to do?”

Reid doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Maybe today you’re our mascot. After all, mascots are supposed to be cute.”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Not all mascots are cute. Recognizable is definitely more important than cute. Besides, am I really that cute?

“I meant to say that compared to Morgan, you’re cute.” Reid buries his head further into the papers.

You ponder for a moment. “Well, you’ve got some charm. Morgan has the charm of he’s good with women so that’s why he gets hit on. Hotch is mature and a leader so that’s why women are into him. You’re cute though. You’ve got this soft sort of shyness that makes you adorable.”

You don’t catch Reid’s reply. His face is completely hidden behind various files. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, given that he’s always been a bit bad with taking compliments. That doesn’t stop you from thinking that it’s adorable.

“Speaking of your charms. I like the fact that you’ve got a good memory. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s got a crush on me, would you?”

He doesn’t look up. “I can pass along a message if you’d like.”

“Well then, I suppose you should tell this guy to ask me out. I can say for certain that if he’s this considerate, that he’s already got my interest.”

“I’ll do that,” he mumbles before handing you a file. “Take a look at this. I think I’ve found what we’ve been missing.”

—-

You peer into the lecture hall. It took some convincing, but you have successfully dragged J.J. to one of Lewis’ classes. You gesture vaguely into the room.

“See! That’s what normal Reid is. Dorky jokes, random facts, and the rambling on for ages is what makes him Reid. That’s not what he’s like around me anymore,” you hiss.

She makes a face and shakes her head. “So you have a different Reid? I don’t think he’s been replaced (L/N). Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”

You scoff. “No I’m not. Reid just seems so nervous around me. Did I do something? He barely looks at me anymore.”

With a shrug, she leads you away. “Have you tried asking him?”

You toss your empty coffee cup in a trash can. Part of you wants to throw up your hands and be done. Why is everyone treating this like it’s normal? No one is giving you any answers.

“Of course I have J.J. It would be weirder if I hadn’t. He clearly knows something about this secret admirer of mine, but won’t tell.”

J.J. pats your arm comfortingly. “Maybe it’s because he’s your secret admirer. Perhaps you need to ask him out.”

“Yeah sure. I’ll ask him out once I have the evidence that he’s the person leaving me these gifts.”

J.J. raises her eyebrows as she drinks from her coffee. Her face says she has other thoughts, but she won’t press the matter further. Your gut tells you to trust her, but you’d rather not make a fool of yourself. Sure, she knows Reid better than you do, but Reid can be difficult to read.

—-

After reading the latest note, you search your desk for your stapler. You’ve been stapling the date and time to each note before tucking it in your desk. However, it’s missing.

You let out a groan. This isn’t the first time it’s been in the wrong spot, and you’re sick of it. You opt to beg Garcia to look at the camera footage to see who’s been using it.

“Hey Garcia? Can you please pull up the footage of my desk this morning? Someone’s been using my stapler, and today they stole it,” you grumble with a scowl. “Whoever took it is going to get some very strong words.”

As she speeds through the footage, you watch the people who got there before you. At first, you see Reid pause at your desk and fiddle with something. You note that he’s the only person in the office at the time, but after he pulls away, you see your stapler still on the desk.

The next person to stop at your desk is Morgan. He pulls your stapler off your desk and staples his paperwork together as he heads to Hotch’s office. He never sets it back on your desk.

“Garcia? Can you please get my stapler from that idiot?”

She laughs. “Has he been using your stapler this whole time? He said there wasn’t any more in the supply room.”

You shake your head. “You like him so much, you can retrieve my stolen goods from him.”

Garcia nods. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”

You leave her to her planning. You don’t comment on the fact that Reid had been at your desk. If you ask her about it, she’ll just leave you alone to go get your stapler. This is enough evidence for you though. It’s time to confront Reid.

Thankfully, he’s made his way to the conference room to look for something. You sneak in behind him and stand between him and the door.

“So, what did you need from my desk this morning?”

You watch him jump and spin around. He looks shocked, but quickly covers it up.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, (L/N).”

You frown. “I found out my stapler was missing. Garcia showed me the footage and before it went missing, you were at my desk. What did you do?”

Reid opens and closes his mouth a few times. He doesn’t look at you. His hands keep fiddling with whatever he’s holding.

“Forget about it, I’m sure there was just some trash leftover that you cleaned up.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

You give him a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else. The others seem to think I’m just talking myself out of it, but I think I can't put it off any longer.”

You make your way towards him, your smile still plastered on your face. You can tell he’s even more nervous now.

“Reid, are you my secret admirer?”

This time, Reid looks you in the eyes. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“What if I am?”

You’re a bit taken aback. Despite the determination you had walking into this, you aren’t sure what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your voice is a whisper now. It feels like some sort of dream. It’s almost like if you talk too loud, this whole thing will shatter and you’ll be left in pieces.

“I didn’t think you’d like me back. Your type just didn’t seem to include me.”

Reid hesitantly pushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“You’re more my type than you realize.”

“Then do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Now you’re the one who's acting nervous. Your palms are sweaty. It’s more difficult to breathe. You can’t help but bite your lip.

“I’d like that. If you’re willing to get dinner with me.”

Reid leans down, and gives you a quick kiss. It barely lasts a second, but you can feel your skin heat up. When he pulls away, he stays close.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

#reader insert #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic

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no-fate-but-what-we-make · 2 years ago

Text

Behind Closed Doors | Fezco

Description: you’re with Fezco in bed when Rue shows up and bangs on his door. Set in Euphoria season 1, episode 3

Pairing: Fezco x Female!Reader

A/N: The moment I first saw this scene, I knew I wanted to write something with it, but I never got around to it until now. Gif isn't mine - all credit to the creator. Enjoy xo

Warnings: drug mentions, addiction

- - -

The sound of a fist banging on the door to Fezco’s house shook you out of your nap. “Mm, what is it, Fez?” You asked, still sleepy, stretching and turning over to face him.

“I don’t know.” Fez sighed, pulling you into him for a quick kiss. “Maybe they’ll go away if we wait long enough.”

The incessant banging continued and after a few more seconds, your boyfriend let out an annoyed grunt and shifted to get out of bed. You watched, a lazy smile on your face as he grabbed his shirt from the floor and threw it on. “Be right back.”

You didn’t necessarily try to hear, but the walls in the house could be thin so it wasn’t hard to eavesdrop on conversations.

“Who is it?” You heard Fezco ask as he walked into the living room. The door squeaked as he opened it, and you could only imagine who was on the other side. One of his clients, no doubt. “Not today, Rue. Sorry.”

Rue. Your chest constricted at hearing the younger girl’s name. You’d seen her around school before you’d graduated, and had met her a couple times since whenever she showed up asking for drugs. From the rumors, her drug habit was one of the worst out of all of Fezco’s clients, and that was seriously saying something.

“C’mon man, don’t be a dick.” The window was open, a fact you hadn’t realized until now, and you could hear the hurt in her strung-out voice.

“Nah, I’m serious. You can’t come in.”

You and Fezco had just been talking about how he wanted to set firmer boundaries with his clients and you knew this was going to be one of the hardest. He saw Rue like a little sister, and always took special care when it came to her - any other girl would be jealous of the relationship, but you saw it for what it was: guilt mixed with some fucked up version of platonic love. When the news broke that Rue had been carted off to rehab after a very nasty OD where she almost died, Fezco had been inconsolable for almost a week. Ashtray had done a majority of the deals that week and you still weren’t sure what he’d told the buyers.

“Look, man, all I- all I need is just a few OCs-”

“Sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Fez? Fez? I’ve had a really fucked up day, alright? It’s been a really really fucked up day, so I need you to open the door for me, okay? Can you open the door, please?” The desperation in her voice had tears pricking the back of your eyes. You knew that tone of voice well, memory taking you back to your dead, alcoholic mother when she’d beg you to go buy booze with the fake she’d had made for you specifically for that purpose. Addiction was a hell of a drug.

“I ain’t gon’ help you kill yourself, Rue.” His silence was deafening. “I’m sorry but you can’t be comin’ over here no more. Just go home.”

“Don’t! Fez, don’t close the-” you heard the click of the door. “Fuck! Fez-” Rue banged her fist against the storm door, “open the fucking door, please? I’m begging you, just open the door.” In a flash, you were off your feet and heading down to the front door. When you got there, all you could see was his back, his forehead resting on the now-closed door. You wasted no time, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek in-between his shoulder blades as you held him tight. He took a shuddering inhale, bracing himself for Rue’s next words.

“Fez! You’re full of shit, man. You know you make your living off of selling drugs to teenagers, and now all of a sudden you wanna have a fucking moral high ground?! You’re a fucking dropout drug dealer. You know that? You’re a fucking dropout drug dealer with seven functioning fucking brain cells. OPEN THE DOOR! Fuck you! Fuck you Fez okay? Are you doing this because you care about me ? If you gave a shit about me you wouldn’t have sold me the fucking drugs in the first place but you did! You fucking did so open the goddamn door! Open the door!”

During Rue’s rant, Fez had turned around, his eyes meeting yours in one of the most tortured expressions you’d ever seen on his face. You hugged him again, your arms winding around his neck as you let him bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“I can’t do it-” He whispered against your skin, and you couldn’t fathom how Rue had heard him, but she responded like she had.

“Open the door, open the door, open the door!” The silence was heartbreaking, but you were currently torn between comforting Fez and fighting Rue for what she’d said to him even though you knew it was no use when an addict was like this. “Open the door. You did this to me! You fucking- you did this to me, Fez. You fucking ruined my life. The least you could do is open the goddamn door! I’m so serious I’m so fucking serious. If you don’t open this door right now I swear to god, I will hate you til the day I fucking die.”

“I��m sorry.”

She let out a heart-wrenching wail and smacked her fists against the storm door. “You fucking did this to me! Open the door! Open the door, Fez! C’mon man…”

Wordlessly, you took Fez’s hand and led him back to the bedroom, the sound of Rue banging on the door for far too long until she tired herself out and left.

The two of you had laid in silence and you waited without expectation until he began to speak. “I just…don’t know how to help her, ya know?” Fez murmured, staring up at the ceiling.

“She’s an addict, Fez. And you’re a dealer. You can’t control what she does and you have to let her fail on her own. It sucks but there’s only so much you can do.”

“I know.” He sighed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. “Thank you for being here.” After a while, Fez finally fell asleep in your arms, his breathing finally evening out after an exhausting encounter. You tucked him into bed, curling up into his side as you tried to get some sleep of your own.

#fezco x reader #fezco x you #fezco x female!reader #fezco fanfiction #fezco fanfic #fezco imagines #fezco imagine #fezco oneshot #fezco one shot #fezco angst #euphoria fanfiction #euphoria imagines

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sunaluv · 1 year ago

Text

EXES? EXES.

in which you and miles are over, but he can't seem to leave you alone

"why are you in my house."

your voice left no room for jokes as you crossed your arms over your chest, almost glaring at the boy who has just entered your window.

it was coming up to two weeks since yours and miles break up. you had finally had enough with him ghosting you, and not committing to his promises and had constantly threatened to find someone better. so you finally went through with your empty threats and dumped him.

the soft glow of the moon caught his eyes briefly as he turned to look at you with an uncharacteristically soft look in his eyes. "missed you, ma"

"not your 'ma'," you put space in between you as he tried to move closer. "and you don't get to miss me, miles. you blew your chance."

he sighed, still trying to get close to you. "how many more times can i apologise," his heartbeat quickened when you allowed him to get more than 2 meters. "i want to make things right for us."

two weeks worth of missing him hit you at once and you felt emotionally overloaded as his warm hands held yours. "will you at least let me hold you again?"

his hand tucked the hair out of your face and held your cheek delicately. you mentally cursed yourself for leaning into his touch.

"i'm so upset with you," your voice cracked as you spoke, though your actions contradicted your words. "but i do miss you too."

a sigh of relief left his lips.

"you're not in the clear though, morales." a sharp inhale from him. "you keep ghosting me like I'm your side chick."

he pecks your forehead, testing how far you'll allow him to go. "don't be silly mami, i'on got no other girls but you. I'll explain everything to you as soon as i can, promise."

he pulls back, eyes scanning your face as if to commit it to memory. slowly, he leans forward to leave one more soft kiss on your lips.

"you're the only girl for me, alright?" he let his hands drop to his sides as he turned to leave your bedroom. "just wait for me, I'll come back for you, always."

you nodded your head, watching the boy climb out the same window he had broken in. now all that's left to wait until he shows up at your window again, which will probably be tomorrow.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles x reader #e42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #atsv x reader #e42 miles morales x reader

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neteyamslovrr · 1 year ago

Text

RETURN - PT 4

summary: five years ago he left you. left you alone with nothing but memories of your love. so how dare he come back now?

contents: 1k words (very short), fem!reader,

authors note: i am so so so sorry it has taken me so long, and this chapter is so short but i need to figure out more BUT i needed to give you smthn @cinetrix made the header pic, he looks so delicious yumyum

previous / next

The Omatikaya said that the river washes away your worries much like the calming embrace of a mother. A comforting stroke just like the rushing water running across your body.

So that is exactly where you went to escape. To let yourself float in the water. Letting it run across your face momentarily so you could indulge in the beautiful feeling.

It is a place you have found yourself go to more often. Your shared tent with Va’tep growing with more and more tension each day.

It wasn’t as if there had been a fight between the two of you. But Va’tep had grown bitter. Mean looks and hushed hisses. For a man of great status he had the emotional maturity of a toddler.

He knew about the mending connection between you and Neteyam. Anyone could see the rekindling flames burning between the two of you. It was angering for him.

To think that you could embarrass him like this. As is you were not his. Not Neteyam’s. No that ship had sailed.

And those growing furies within Va’tep shoved you far away. Far into this river, and further into Neteyam’s heart.

“What are you doing?” His voice was soft, so sweet yet deep. It erupted fire within you, one that not even the water surrounding you could put out.

Sitting up in a slight shock, your legs resting on the harsh ground below the water. “I was relaxing.”

“You can continue” He chuckled, submerging himself in the water beside you. “What have you been doing today? I didn’t seen you in camp this morning.”

You shrugged in response, sitting up beside him. “I’ve been here all day.”

“Hm? Any reason?” Neteyam knew you were feeling down. He could see it in your sunken shoulders and slight frown.

“Just…didn’t want to be there.” A vague response only probing Neteyam to ask more questions.

“Be honest with me…” He whispered, his slender hand touching yours with a comforting gaze.

With a long hesitant silence you looked into Neteyam’s eyes, your own glazed with tears. “It is Va’tep… it’s unbearable living with him.”

“What do you mean…?” Neteyam asked, his hands pulling you closer to him. “What is he doing?”

You caressed his hand. “He’s just…he’s so hostile. Being with you like this…It is hurting him.”

Neteyam scoffed. “The only thing it hurts is his pride. Which I will hurt more if he doesn’t grow up.” You shook your head as Neteyam tilted your chin to gaze up at him. “Whenever you are ready…We can approach him. I’m not letting you suffer with him for this long.”

“You let me suffer long enough.” Whenever you brought up Neteyam’s five year long absence it leaves a sting in both of your hearts. But Eywa was Neteyam doing everything in his power, with all his might to get back to how you were before. It was his one goal to recover the heart he tore apart.

“I will never let you suffer again. Please my sevin (pretty), let me help you.” He was so close to you, hands grazing your thighs, begging to bring you chest to chest.

You froze. You want nothing more than to let yourself let him into your heart. But there was moral turmoil running through you every time his soft fingers grazed your skin. “I want you to.. I really do. But-” You stopped yourself letting out a loud sigh.

“But?” Neteyam looked at you, stare full of love. “I will fight anyone who gets in our way. It is my fault Va’tep is promised to you. I will get you out of this.”

“Neteyam…” It was hushed, struggling and scratching to escape your throat. He nodded eagerly. “I cannot face my parents…I cannot be their only daughter who defies their wishes.”

“They wouldn’t wish for you to be unhappy.” You simply shook your head.

“I can’t- Neteyam…I don’t know what to do” You started to tear up, lips quivering as Neteyam gasped.

“Hey…hey. It’s okay…I’ll sort this out.” Neteyam hushed you, bringing you into his embrace, the lake sloshing around your bodies as his hands soothed your back. “I’ll make everything okay.”

And he vowed to do so.

It was a couple days after, you cried in his arms. He hadn’t talked to you since, you were avoiding him due to embarrassment.

He understood, it was taking you a lot to open up to him like this after all these years. And he would do everything in his power to make sure he can make you feel comfortable and safe with him forever.

Neteyam had only had restless nights. He couldn’t shake away the thoughts of you being with Va’tep and how miserable you were with him. He wanted you to be happy whether that was single or with Neteyam. Preferably, with him.

But while he lay still, his hammock rocking him gently to the rhythm of the breeze, an idea finally hit him. He understood the only reason Va’tep was to mate with you was because it was your parents. And the only reason Va’tep stayed with you was because of his pride and his ego.

What if Neteyam were to take it away from him? To make it so that Va’tep is no longer the most honourable mate for you? And to strip away his pride so it cannot shackle you down into a loveless mating.

Maybe he was crazy to think if this. What could he possibly do to make Va’tep truly lose his mightiness in the eyes of your parents. And what could Neteyam do that wouldn’t make his family need to run away from the clan again…This is the chief’s brother we’re talking about.

But you were the most important thing to ever talk about. You were his top priority, his one and only purpose on this planet. Your voice was a symphony and it mellowed out every poor note around him. He swore on the Great Mother he would fix this huge mess he had caused.

Full of fiery passion he erupted out of his hammock, drawing up plans and splaying thoughts onto the dirt below him. You asked him to show you how to let go of the past. And he was determined to help you grab onto the future. Your future. Each other's future.

once again thankyou my beautiful doves <33 youre interactions are my motivation thankyou sm for reading

tags: @notsaelty @mommyneytiri @hannabanana-09 @gloryavila @peachinsominac @jaidalise @neqeyam @hello222sthings @tsuteysyawntu @neyetams @yhern05 @emjeez @adaiasafira @kiri-tuk @yaya6765 @biscuitbeater15 @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @plooloo @savvysscandles @dilucslilmeowmeow @69cocktimusprime @newjeansbonnie @chatoicboy @pinkpantheris @plzfeedmebread @afro-hispwriter @lollife1617 @goddesslilithmoriarty @cinetrix @grierpilots @melsunshine @valentineheartzz @tsveria @mikeyswifie @junnniiieee07 @wifeyofeveryone @baebinana @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @neteyamssbaby @taleiak @cheyehc @shoyos-sugarbaby @be3flow3r

everything taglist: @8resa @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamsblog @live-laugh-neteyam @reyalvr @trashfox @darkacademictrash @scntfrhs @dreamyescapesfromreality @fanboyluvr @neteyamzmate @neteyamyawne @neteyamssbaby @hana-yuri @solanare @s-surreality @aerangi @papichulo120627 @bellstwd @sussybaka10 @oceanstar19 @sharkybabe9 @arminsgfloll @bakugouswaif

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imaginedanvrs · 1 year ago

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my demon gave me everything

part 1 | masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 3.7k

warnings: kidnapping, drugging, stalking, character death, obsessive behaviour

“Hi, Peggy,” you greeted the veteran warmly, pulling her from the memories playing before her in the photos by the impeccably made bed. Though the quality of the crumpled papers weren’t the finest of that generation's technology, the scenes that the woman could recall just from a glance at the hazy faces were enough to bring their characters and stories to the present. In the months that you had known Ms Carter, you had spent hours listening to her adventures from the war, enthralled by every word. Of course, you weren’t meant to have favourites, but Peggy’s life had been unmatched, so naturally, her presence was too. You missed her greatly in the months that followed.

“Hello, dear,” Peggy replied with an aged smile. “How are you?” She asked, lifting her hand to you. You took it in your own and rubbed your thumb over the back of her hand with a shake of your head.

“You know that’s what I’m meant to ask you,” you tutted, though of course appreciating the care she showed.

“Yes but I’m not the one on my feet for twelve hours a day,” Peggy was swift to respond.

“And I’m not the one that’s fought in a world war,” you countered, earning a soft chuckle from your resident. You placed her hand back down on the soft sheets gently and set about busying around her room. “I heard Steve’s coming in to see you later,” you said as you began watering some of the pots along the window frame.

“That’s the plan,” Peggy agreed. Of course she understood better than anyone that the job of someone like Steve Rogers meant that plans could be cancelled at a moment's notice. Majority of the time though, he made it. Luckily for the super soldier, the home was discreet enough that he didn’t have to worry about any press or genuine threats interrupting his visits with the woman he loved. The home was tucked away just outside the city and only housed a manageable amount of residents for a small team of staff. It was perfect for a retired war hero, even if she did have some complaints about being in a home to begin with.

“I believe he’s bringing Natasha with him as well,” Peggy added.

“Really? Do I need to get the spare red carpet for her too?” You quipped as you smiled at the last flower pot, fully aware of the look Peggy was sending your way.

“Now dear, don’t you start making a fuss too. You’re the only one who doesn’t treat them like a touring rock band.” Peggy sighed. “You’ll give them a complex.” At this, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?” You chuckled as you folded and put away the cardigan that wouldn’t be needed for the rest of that day.

“I don’t think so, dear. Things aren’t how they used to be, you know?” You smiled as the familiar rant about the changing world started again. “When me and Steve fought, we fought for freedom and only that. Now you have so many so-called ‘super heroes’ out there showing off their gifts for the crowds instead of using it for good. And that’s not even the worst of it. I’m sure some are all together corrupt,” she said with a disappointed frown. “Steve earned his abilities because he’s a good man but there are some that-” Peggy’s rant was cut off by the chesty coughs that stole her breath. She leaned forward to best support herself as you grabbed her glass of water and knelt besides her, masking my worries as best you could. It was easy for you both to forget the veterans age and limits.

“Take it easy,” you encouraged with a gentle hand on her back. Peggy gratefully took the water and allowed it to ease her irritated throat before leaning back into her bed with a tired sigh. “Okay?”

“Best I’ve ever been,” you hummed and refilled her glass before setting it on the bedside table again.

You took Peggy’s hand in my own once again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I should hope so, you have to come with me next time I go back to England,” you said matter of factly. Prompting Peggy to chuckle, more than happy to go along with the fantasy.

“Ah yes, I still haven’t met the queen and she’s been on the throne almost as long as I’ve been alive,” Peggy exclaimed.

“Would be pretty nice if she could pay for our plane tickets,” you added to which the older woman continued to chuckle just as a light knock could be heard from the other side of her door.

“Come in,” she invited, the hope in her voice clear and thankfully rewarded when Steve poked his head around the door with a broad smile to the older woman that he extended to you after a second. You placed Peggy’s hand back to her bed just as a shorter woman crept in behind Steve.

“Oh Steve,” Peggy beamed with a twinkle in her eye she reserved solely for the Captain.

“Hey Peggy, how’s my favourite girl?” He greeted, his eyes just as full of love as Peggy’s as he knelt down where you had been a second before. “Hi, y/n,.” he said, his voice still nurturing.

“Heya Steve,” you smiled back and glanced away from their embrace. Too often did you try to live through them in hopes of experiencing a love nearly as strong as theirs some day.

You glanced towards the silent woman who was already looking at you with interest. “Hi,” you muttered, finding it near impossible to hold such an intense gaze for more than a couple seconds - not that you were the first to find difficulty in making eye contact with the world’s greatest assassin, of course. She was the Black Widow. For a second you had to remind yourself that she was a good guy and that you had nothing to worry about.

“Hi,” she replied, a friendly smile taking over her features so smoothly you wondered if it was sincere.

“I’ll leave you guys to it in a minute but before I go, Peggy, are you comfortable?” You asked. “Not too hot?” You knew the older woman didn’t like to make a fuss and that if you didn’t ask then, she wouldn’t say anything until her visitors left.

“A little,” you were glad to hear her admit, “perhaps there’s no need for the extra blanket.” You nodded in agreement and took the extra blanket off her bed and put it away in her cupboard to grab again before the night. “Thank you, dear,” Peggy said with a grateful nod.

“No problem, just shout if you need anything,” you said as always as you made your way out the room and shut the door behind you, unaware of the eyes that followed you the whole way.

Natasha didn’t believe in any kind of instant connection. She had never looked at someone and felt a desperate need to have them, kiss them, date them, fuck them. It had simply never occurred and she didn’t believe it happened to others. She believed anything remotely close to ‘love at first sight’ was some bullshit horny people told lonely people in order to get in their pants faster. You were no exception.

What Natasha did experience was interest. Interest of woman she would typically define as her ‘type’. It wasn’t that she saw a hot woman and wanted to fuck them, instead, Natasha saw fragile women and wanted to break them. She wanted to surgically remove every part of them that made them the picture of innocence and ruin it. Because no two people are the same. No two people can have that many overlapping traits. Everyone was unique which meant everyone had a unique way to be broken, that was what sparked Natasha’s interest.

In less than a minute in the same room as you, the spy had watched how you interacted with Peggy, a vulnerable lady that you had ensured the comfort of. She had watched how unfazed you were by two superheroes that many had paid thousands just to shake hands with. It had sparked her interest and made her wonder how you would respond to numerous scenarios. She wondered what you would look like when your mind and body had been broken, if it would be any different than the women before.

The one thing Natasha knew for sure was that she was going to find out.

Peggy’s death came two weeks later. Steve couldn’t be there at the end but he thanked you that you were. You held her hand as she passed and told her it was okay, managing to hold back your tears until her final breath. You all knew this meant she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, but the absence of her presence was felt across the home and would for a while.

The funeral was a blur, a lot of people were invited, unsurprisingly. Peggy had touched many lives that you were beyond grateful to receive an invitation yourself, even if you didn’t know anyone there except for Steve who had enough people to greet. You stuck to the back of the hall and made small talk with a few people and managed to hold back tears until the end of service when you snuck away to the bathroom.

After ten minutes of hardly effective breathing exercises you found on the internet, you made your way back out, hoping to say goodbye to Steve before you left but figured he had to leave early as he was nowhere to be found. You tried to make an unnoticed exit but the small touch to your back told you that you failed in that. You spun around to see Natasha with that same, slightly off, smile you hadn’t forgotten..

“Hey,” she greeted, putting her hands back into the pockets of a coat that probably cost more than a year's worth of your salary. To be fair, she saves the world.

“Hey yourself,” you said with a weary smile, hoping your eyes weren’t too red from crying. She looked perfect.

“Y/n, right?” She tested.

“Yeah and you’re… Natasha was it?” You tested back, making the redhead’s smile become more real.

“That’s me,” she chuckled. You eased up slightly, finding her presence less intimidating than your last meeting. “How are you? I mean, how are you doing?” She continued, her softer gaze becoming more watchful again. You wondered then if that was just her way of showing she was listening and giving her full attention.

“I’m alright,” you lied. Natasha noted it internally. “How are you? How’s Steve?” Another note.

“I didn’t know her all that well but Steve’s not having the easiest time.” You nodded, recalling the affection that never faltered when he looked at Peggy. “He’ll be okay though, he’s a tough guy.”

“Is he here?” You skimmed the faces in the crowd once more but still couldn’t find the blond.

“No, he had to go,” Natasha said.

“He doesn’t need you to help save the world with him?” you teased to try and distract from the resurfacing raw funeral feelings.

“It’s not bad enough to require my skill set,” the spy quipped with some undisguised smugness. You hummed. That was pretty hot. “So seeing as there’s nothing that requires my immediate attention, you need a ride home?” Natasha offered with expecting eyes.

“Thank you, but I can just order an uber I’m not too far-”

“Then you won’t be out of my way then,” Natasha called over her shoulder as she headed for what you could only guess was the flashiest car on the grounds and left no room for arguing. You trailed along behind her as Natasha opened the eagle doors from her keys while you pretended not to be completely awestruck by the vehicle and its driver.

“So was this a gift from Nick Fury or…?” You asked as the spy revved the engine and swiftly made her way out of the parking area and started on the long lane out of the grounds.

“You could say that,” she smirked, making you wonder if there was a story behind the car's ownership. “Do you drive?” The redhead asked instead.

“Um, no. Haven’t really gotten around to it, you know, what with moving here a year ago from England and all.” You admitted in a quick attempt to cover the embarrassment you always felt when people asked.

“That’s fair.” Natasha nodded understandably. “Besides, what are you? Twenty?” She continued with her eyes staying on the road.

“Nineteen,” you corrected. Natasha hummed and you suddenly wondered how old the Avenger was. Definitely not too old for you to see her as attractive but probably too old for her to see you as attractive, as if that were ever a possibility.

Once you reached the main gates to the grounds, Natasha pulled up her screens map and asked you to put your address in then continued on in that direction.

“So how long are you planning on staying in the states?” The spy inquired.

“My visa doesn’t actually last much longer than a year so I’ll have to head back home soon.” You explained, counting down the weeks before your flight.

“Oh? You reckon you’ll come back?” Natasha continued, stopping herself from pushing as much as she wanted to.

“I’m not sure yet. I mean it’s pretty nice here but it’s not home, you know? That’s where I want to be.”

“Yeah, nothing beats that,” the older woman muttered. You were about to ask Natasha about her own home when the car pulled to a stop outside your three story apartment building. “But I suppose this is it for now.”

“Pretty different to yours, I bet,” you mused, only imagining the kind of place she lived.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Natasha chuckled.

“Kinda,” you admitted with a light laugh as you got out of the fancy car. “Well, thanks for the ride, it was fun,” you smiled gratefully towards the redhead.

“Anytime,” she winked and sped away once you were a couple steps back. As you watched her go, you assumed that would be the last time you ever saw Natasha Romanoff.

It’s pretty nice but it’s not home. That’s where I want to be.

Natasha had pondered on that as she pulled into the rusting garage, only being lit by the glow from the inside of her car. She tapped her steering wheel and considered what that meant for her. It meant you were going back to England and you probably weren’t coming back. The redhead hummed as she pulled up your visa on her tablet, seeing the expiration date was only a couple months time and concluded you could be leaving any day between now and then. When she returned home she would find what date you had booked your flight for so she could know for sure.

That was new. The spy had never faced a deadline with any of the past women. It was exciting, adding a new risk she hadn’t encountered before. It made the challenge all the more enticing. With that on her mind, Natasha left the garage through the back door and had to give it several kicks when shutting it back into place.

Shit hole.

The building wasn’t really that bad, more just a little run down because it was in the forgotten part of town, just outside the busy city that had no time to acknowledge it. Natasha, being far more used to her luxury penthouse suite in the heart of New York, thought it was below her and couldn’t wait to show you just how differently she lived.

Once the redhead made her way up to the top floor, and assuring no one was around to see, she slipped inside the empty one bedroom apartment and headed straight for the window at the opposite end of the living space. Sitting in the sturdy foldable chair, Natasha peered through the S.H.I.E.L.D issued camera that was already staring right into your bedroom window down the street.

You were crying again. Natasha tutted. She had liked getting a sneak peak at how you looked when you cried the first time, but had since grown irritated that she wasn’t the one causing those tears to fall. It made her agitated and grew her need to have you.

When you finally took your shirt off, the spy’s interest peaked again and she gave a light groan. It was only the second time seeing you without it and the first time had only been through your webcam. You usually knew to close your curtains when getting changed but the emotions clouded your better judgement.

Such a dumb pup.

You dipped out of view to remove your bra so Natasha switched tabs on her laptop to peer through yours. Turned off. She switched to my phone. In another room.

“Fuck,” Natasha huffed, pulling a cigarette from its packet on the windowsill and grabbing the lighter from her pocket. She held the flame against the end and waited for the orange glow to send off its small grey whisps.

The Avenger had put cameras in some of the other women’s apartments, but given that she was able to see through several of your windows from across the street, she didn’t deem it necessary for you. She preferred it that way. She wasn’t exactly desperate to see you naked. That wasn’t a big part of it. She just wanted to see you. She enjoyed learning your small habits from afar, they would help in a few days. She enjoyed seeing you all on your own and knew it bothered you. You craved companionship and it would make you more open to hers the more desperate you got. It was just a shame she couldn’t drag it out for longer.

When you reappeared, you were in my unicorn pjs. Natasha smiled at the innocence of it all. Nineteen. The redhead didn’t usually go for women that young but you were an adult by law so she deemed it okay. Besides, she knew of your exes. She knew that older women were your type and that thirty definitely wasn’t too old. The spy also knew those exes were inadequate and what Natasha could offer you was something you had yet to experience from anyone, even them. She wondered just how badly you craved it and how soon you would admit it to her.

All that mattered was that you would never experience it from anyone else.

Several days passed since Peggy’s funeral and things were returning to how they were before you met the veteran. Her room at the home was still empty and you hoped it would be until you left. That would always be Peggy’s room. Thankfully, you were able to distract yourself throughout your working days by completing unnecessary tasks to make the day go quicker and stop your mind wandering too much to how lonely you were again. Peggy had been a friend, granted an unlikely one but a friend at that.

You were able to keep yourself preoccupied outside of work too. Whenever the weather permitted, you headed out into the parks in town with your sketchbook and spent hours, sometimes most of the day, doodling pretty much anything you could see. The crowds of flowers around the edges of the park; the moments different wildlife crosses paths; the unique landscapes when the city turned to town; the families and couples enjoying the last of the summer. Everything had a spot in your nearly full sketchbook that you had gotten especially for your trip. You were hoping to recreate them digitally when you got home.

The silver lining in it all was that you slept soundlessly through the nights. From the moment your head hit the pillow you were fast asleep and woke up feeling refreshed until grief gave you a sudden slap. But it wasn’t just you that benefited from my new found deep sleeping habits. In fact, it was what made Natasha able to make her move so fast.

It was 3:36 when the spy stepped foot in your apartment. She crept around without a single breath to be heard and peered around the studio apartment. Due to the layout, Natasha was able to see your sleeping frame as soon as she stepped into your living space. You were of course sound asleep when she saw you, but Natasha still noted where the creaky floorboards were and swiftly manoeuvred around your apartment.

The redhead didn’t make her way immediately to you as she knew you wouldn’t stir. Instead, she took some time to feed her curiosity and opened the cupboards in the kitchen she hadn’t been able to see. You had a lot of snacks, most of which Natasha didn’t approve of, and less ingredients for actual dinners. She knew you weren’t much of a chef and more often than not just put a collection of snacks on your plate for dinner than cook. The older woman would fix that for you soon enough.

She was pleased to see that you kept the studio pretty much spotless. There was no washing up left out, no crumbs on any surfaces, the floor didn’t need to be moped. She wouldn’t mind if you managed to stay in her home a while.

After a few more minutes of assessing the rest of your living space, Natasha continued back to you and hovered over your sleeping body for a while, knowing you wouldn’t have a rest this peaceful for a while. Luckily she had something to make sure you could make the most of it. The syringe in the leather pocket was only a slim one with a needle small enough that you wouldn’t feel it in your sleep. She traced along your neck with the back of her finger before sinking the needle in and flushing the liquid into your system, ensuring you would be no trouble when getting home.

“That’s it, detka,” Natasha cooed when you turned onto your side facing her and nuzzled further into your pillow. She leant down and placed a gentle kiss on your temple and the trace of a smile fluttered across your lips. “Get lots of rest.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #dark!natasha x reader #dark!fic #dark!marvel

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nwqueenwrites · 1 year ago

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Halsin/OC TAV

(Fixing the horrid canon ending!)

Sunlight streams into the room as you awaken, instantly warming your skin. During the night, you had fallen asleep curled against Halsin, drawing comfort from his presence after the harrowing battle.

As you stir, Halsin runs a hand gently through your hair. "Good morning, my love," he says softly. "How are you feeling?" You nuzzle against his chest, not yet ready to face the day. Sensing your need for quiet, Halsin simply holds you close for a long moment.

Eventually, duty calls you both.

As you finally rise and dress, Halsin explains his plans for the refugees. "I will take the children and any others who cannot remain here. We will travel far from Baldur's Gate and establish a new grove, a safe haven."

Your heart sinks, knowing this means his departure. But you force a brave smile. "They could have no better guide than you. The children adore you." Halsin takes your hands, regret in his eyes. "I wish we had more time. But the refugees need stability and shelter. I cannot delay the journey." He strokes your cheek. "My heart, you have your own path. Do not feel obligated to accompany me."

Though it pains you, you understand his reasons. "Of course. The children must come first," you reply, blinking back tears. "Just...promise you'll think of me sometimes during your travels."

"Always," Halsin whispers as he pulls you close once more. No matter what the future holds, you will carry the memory of this farewell embrace for the rest of your days.

As Halsin holds you close, neither wants to be the first to let go. You bury your face against his neck, breathing in his earthy scent. This may be the last time you feel the comfort of his arms. Reluctantly, Halsin loosens his embrace. Up close, you see the grief dimming his eyes.

"I confess, now that the time has come, parting from you feels...unnatural," he says raggedly. "My spirit already yearns to have you near again." You cling tighter, wishing you could freeze this moment. Halsin continues, "But I cannot delay the journey. The children have suffered enough instability." He strokes your hair, his voice filled with regret.

"I must not be selfish, no matter how much I..." His words trail off, but you hear the unspoken end of his sentence. No matter how much I need you. Need us. You pull back to meet his anguished gaze. "I understand…" you whisper. "The refugees must come first." You manage a bittersweet smile. "Follow your calling, and...know that you have my whole heart.....Always."

Halsin cups your face with aching tenderness. "And you mine," he replies. "No matter where your destiny leads, I will love you eternally."

Though it pains you, you step back, letting his hands slip from your grasp. His duty is clear, as is yours. With one last lingering look, Halsin turns to gather the refugees, his shoulders heavy with sorrow. Your paths now diverge - but perhaps someday they will cross again. For now, you have only memories to sustain you.

As noon grew near, Halsin finished loading the last supplies onto the wagons, sadly glancing back towards the city one final time. He hopes against hope to see you running to join them after all. But the gates remain empty.

Nearby, the refugee children gather around him in a cheerful swarm, chattering with excitement to begin the journey. Their high spirits lift Halsin's mood slightly. Little Anya tugs at his robe. "Mr. Halsin, is the nice teacher coming with us?" she asks brightly. Halsin's heart sinks. He forces a smile. "I'm afraid they cannot join us just yet, child."

Jorin, an older orphan, pipes up next. "But they're always teaching us and reading stories! They have to come to the new grove too!" The other children murmur in earnest agreement. Halsin swallows down fresh grief, touched by their attachment to you. If only you were here...

From the wagons, some adult refugees call out as well. "Where is your partner? They helped tend the sick ones daily."

"Yes, and boosted morale with songs and tales around the fire!"

Halsin raises a hand, reluctance in his voice as he explains you cannot accompany them now. The children and refugees' crestfallen reaction at your absence mirrors his own feelings. But the journey must commence, even if his heart remains behind.

With a heavy spirit, Halsin climbs onto the lead wagon. As the procession rolls out, he wonders if you glance back from the city walls. Wherever you are, he hopes you understand how deeply you'll be missed.

As they start to depart, Halsin is distracted by the sound of comotion coming from the back of the wagon trail.

Halsin turns to see you standing at the city gates, chest heaving from running. Hope and longing flare within him at your presence, but he swallows it down. You have your own path, and he must not sway you from it.

Before he can speak, you say in a rush, "I know you think I'm better off following my own destiny. But I cannot let you leave without me. My place is at your side." Halsin's stoic resolve nearly cracks at your words. But he hardens his heart once more.

"You do not need to sacrifice your freedom out of obligation. I release you from any commitment to me." You search his eyes, hurt, moving closer to his lead wagon. "So...you do not want me to come? Just say it plainly, and I will let you be." Your chin trembles slightly as you force out the painful offer. At seeing your distress, Halsin can restrain himself no longer. Jumping from the wagon, he crushes you against his chest, emotion flooding through his barriers.

"Forgive me," he whispers fervently. "I only wanted to give you wings to soar, but I was blind. I cannot imagine this journey without you now."

You cling to him just as tightly, shaking with joy and relief. All reservations finally cast aside, Halsin admits what his heart has known all along - that you belong together.

Taking your pack in one hand and your hand in the other, he leads you to sit beside him in the wagon. The future remains uncertain, but Halsin knows that side by side, you will weather whatever storms may come.

As Halsin sweeps you into his embrace, a great cheer erupts from the caravan. You glance over to see the refugees and children looking on delightedly. "Hooray, they're coming after all!" little Anya cries out joyfully. The other children take up the chant, clapping and shouting. The adult refugees are smiling as well. "We're glad you changed your mind!" calls out one man. "The journey wouldn't be the same without you," adds a woman, raising her hand.

You beam back at them, heart swelling with warmth at this acceptance. Halsin takes your face in his hands once more. "They have given us their blessing," he says with a tender smile. "Let us not keep them waiting any longer."

As the procession finally passes through the gates, the refugees and delighted children cheer loudly for you both. Though the road ahead remains uncertain, you know that come what may, you will face it together, surrounded by this community you both care for so deeply. Home is no longer a place, but the bonds you now share.

#halsin x tav #halsin x oc #halsin x reader #halsin #bg3 tav #my tav #baldur's gate 3

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wallflowerwritesstuff · 5 months ago

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Decisions, Decisions

...but you can choose them all if you really want~

Just a little cute thing I wanted to do similar to a choose-your-own adventure game :) Choose who you want to care for you after a particularly harsh mission!

The beginning is the same for all routes, but you can pick which LI you want at the end of it.

Enjoy :)

-🌻

Can be read at ao3 here if preferred!

Borders by strangergraphics here on tumblr :)

Your body was killing you.

You could already see the looks of disapproval for just thinking the statement, the images at least cracking your frown and allowing for the corners of your lips to curl upward. Ignoring the fact that your entire body felt like one big bruise, you continued to type up the remainder of information from the mission, only having gone due to the original hunter being put on medical leave a week in.

You now understood exactly why they had been placed on said leave.

Rather than your usual clumsy antics resulting in some minor injuries, it was the job that had left you beaten, bruised, and momentarily bloody. You didn’t even want to know how bad it must look to others, grateful you couldn’t see your back but wincing whenever you imagined the sight of your collarbone down to your toes. The wanderers lately have grown more…intense. Rather than managing to get through a job in an hour or so, it had begun to take several.

You were a great hunter—you reminded yourself of that a lot more, lately—but even with your seemingly above average skills when fighting, you were still human.

You could still die.

Shutting the laptop with a tired exhale, you turn your head toward the windows to see the familiar sunset beginning to fade on the horizon. You were sure you would have appreciated it more if your vision weren’t so blurry from staring at a screen for so long. Still, you allow yourself to watch it until it disappears entirely, the emptiness of night more prominent when you still had to commute home.

You don’t regret not going with Tara, though her words ring in your ears as you steel your nerves to force yourself up into a standing position.

Get some rest, alright?

The concern that had laced into her words was touching, especially considering you hadn’t expected how easily it would be to become fast friends. Caleb had been the only one you’d ever clicked with so seamlessly, though the memory had become more bittersweet than nostalgic ever since his passing.

You miss him and Grandma, your eyes watering as you wipe the stray tears that made their way down your cheeks. Grounding yourself was a lot harder when you already were in such a vulnerable state, but you managed to do it before exiting the office and making sure to shut the lights on your way out.

You pull out your phone, finding some messages unread but once again unable to fully concentrate, a frustrated huff escaping you as you shove the device back into your pocket. The harsh movement sends shockwaves through you as you await the building’s elevator, your eyes closing as you focus on each breath.

It was easier to brush off the pain earlier—adrenaline and the eyes of many causing you to suck it up to avoid damaging morale.

Right now, however?

You were sure you would have rather been knocked out cold and taken into medical.

At least there they’d have given you something to take the edge off.

The elevator dings, the doors parting as you open your eyes and realize you have to decide whether you’re taking your bike or public transportation to get home.

Crap.

“Well, better now than later,” you muse to yourself blithely, stepping inside the elevator and pressing the ‘ground floor’ button with much more force than necessary.

A part of you wonders if you should get something prescribed rather than attempting to cruise the next few days, but the idea of traveling to the hospital and the risk of being placed under overnight observation was enough to have you pushing the idea away entirely.

Tomorrow, you assure, knowing very well that apart from sleep, you wouldn’t be seeking much of anything else.

When you get down the the ground floor, you begin your walk to the bus stop, hoping there aren’t any delays but not holding your breath.

------------------

Time to Choose~

Xavier

Zayne

Rafayel

Sylus

#love and deep space #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #lnds sylus #lnds zayne #lnds xavier #lnds rafayel #lnds #wow this fandom has a lot of tags omg

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years ago

Text

When We Were Young

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: M (breakups, seeing your ex, a lil angsty with a happy ending, a douchey/aggressive male interaction, alcohol consumption, language)

wc: 2.5k

frankie masterlist

Time froze. As cliche as it sounded, it was also accurate. You sat there gawking like a deer caught in headlights, your blood rushing from your head to pour into the crater-sized hole in your heart in the shape of him. It was like seeing the ghost of a loved one, desperate for it to make contact and fearful of it all at once. To see him, the man you’d loved and lost five years ago, here in the flesh, laughing with a group of people you didn’t recognize, reminded you that whatever life you had shared with him in the past was just that—the past. But even still, you couldn’t help but hope there was a moment for the two of you here in the present, and perhaps if the fates were kind enough, in the future.

“Everything okay?” Your eyes wandered back to the man in front of you—your date, you had to remind yourself.

“Yeah,” you managed, nodding your head as if it helped make your lie believable. “Just saw someone I used to know.”

“Oh, why don’t you go say hi?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

If only it were that simple.

“I’d rather stay here,” you replied, lying again. Is that what you were forced to become? Nothing but a liar? A half-lover? Someone frozen in the past?

Across the bar he spots you, smiling at some dark haired man that looks too old for you, or perhaps that’s just his jealousy talking.

You look good, healthier than he last saw you. You’d gained some weight, filling out your sunken cheeks that remained seared in his memory from the night he left you. The night that haunted him, a dark cloud of regret and shame that rained the taste of your tears over him to remind him of the hurt he caused you.

You only ever asked him to love you, but like the immature child he was—the child he still feared lived deep within—he made you feel like you were asking for too much.

As he sat there watching you giggle, your fingers stirring the black straw in your glass—a gin and tonic like always, no doubt—he wondered if you spotted him as well. He figured it didn’t matter even if you did. He couldn’t imagine a universe in which you could forgive him for what he did—or for what he couldn’t do.

“Frankie!” A whine coming from the girl he’d been seeing casually the last few weeks pulled his eyes from watching you, his head turning in the direction of the woman who didn’t know him well enough to know what darkness lied within him. “I want another drink.”

“Okay,” he replied, awaiting an explanation for how this concerned him.

“Can you go get me one?” she snapped, drunken and slurred. Frankie exhaled softly and nodded, the bottle of beer in his hand empty and needing replacing anyways.

He stood to walk to the bar, his eyes finding you no matter how hard he tried to keep them occupied. As he passed your table, he overheard the man you were with talking about his job—finance, it seemed. Was that really the kind of man you were into these days? Back in the day the two of you would’ve made fun of a guy like him. What could you possibly have in common with such a…stiff? He supposed it didn’t matter—shouldn’t matter.

How could you listen to anything this man was saying when you could feel Frankie’s eyes on you, when you could smell him walking by? He still wore that same cologne, still donned that same red flannel you gifted him for Christmas. So much had stayed the same about him on the outside, it seemed. Could the same be said for the inside? Did you want it to?

“Hey, I’m gonna go use the restroom,” your date announced and you nodded, watching him as he walked off through the crowded pub.

You weren’t sure what compelled you to stand, but before you could talk yourself out of it, you were already standing beside your ex at the bar, his head turned in the opposite direction as he waited for the bartender to make his way to him.

“You look the same,” you spoke over the chatter and music filling the room, causing his head to whip over in your direction. He looked wide eyed, the color draining from his face. For a minute, you worried you’d offended him by simply speaking, but the soft curl of his lips quickly soothed that fear.

“You look…good,” he managed, his eyes frantic as they studied your face, seemingly taking in all the changes you cursed your body for making. “I, uh, I saw you, but…I don’t know. Didn’t want to interrupt your date.”

“Not much of a date,” you shrugged. “Not anymore at least.”

Frankie smiled more genuinely and it was as if you were thrown back in time, seeing that dimple come out for the first time. You longed to reach out for him, to touch him to make sure he was actually there, but refrained.

“You here with anyone?” you asked, unsure of what overcame you. You had no right to pry that way, but couldn’t help yourself. Had he moved on? Was it better that way? The sinking feeling in your gut as his eyes flickered over to the singular woman sitting at his table told you no, it wasn’t.

“It’s…casual,” he shrugged, pursing his lips. “Haven’t really been able to jump into anything after…after us.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, batting away the childish tears born of jealousy. You felt the immature little girl you used to be clawing at the back of your throat begging to scream “he’s mine, he’s mine, don’t touch what’s mine!”. You lifted your drink to wash down the burn.

“Yeah, it’s been hard for me too,” you admitted, though the word “hard” felt like nothing more than a watered-down truth.

“God, sorry about that. The line was so long.” Your date appeared with a smile, his eyes flickering to the man beside you at the bar. “Hey.”

Frankie nodded at him but remained silent.

“Well,” your date exhaled as he turned back to you. “You wanna get out of here? Maybe go back to my place?”

Your eyes flickered to Frankie, watching his profile as he tried not to appear like he was eavesdropping on the conversation, but the clench of his jaw gave him away.

“I think I’m just gonna go home for the night,” you finally answered, turning to your date to give him an apologetic frown. He chuckled and looked towards Frankie, pointing his finger at him.

“You mean you’re going to go home with this fucker?”

Frankie’s body turned fully to your date, his brows laced as he looked down at the man at least five inches shorter than him.

“What was that?” Frankie asked, the dominance in his voice foreign and familiar at the same time.

“How’s it fair that I have to pair for all her fucking drinks and you’re the one who gets to take her home?” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I got her drunk, so I get the reward.”

Frankie scoffed in disbelief and looked to you, the look of fear in your eyes igniting a protective streak in him that only seemed to light for you.

“Go home, man,” he ordered, turning back to your “date”.

“Fuck that—“ He made to grab at your arm but Frankie shoved him back before he could make contact.

“Go home.” Frankie ordered again, giving the man one last chance before he’d have to walk home with only one working eye. The man sized Frankie up for a beat before turning to you.

“You’re paying for your own fucking drinks then,” he said, as though it was a punishment. Truthfully, you were thankful not to “owe” this man—the word used loosely—anything. You watched him walk off down the bar to pay off his half of the tab, keeping your eyes glued to him to assure he didn’t come back and try something again. It seemed Frankie was doing the same.

“What a fucking prick,” he mumbled under his breath as the two of you watched him leave the bar. You turned back to Frankie and felt your lips part to speak, to apologize for your choice in man, but couldn’t manage a sound. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” he offered sincerely, his gentle brown eyes landing on yours. “You didn’t deserve any of his bullshit.”

“Yeah, well…when they tell you there’s tons of fish in the sea they don’t mention that those fish fucking suck.” Frankie laughed and nodded, that dimple coming out again. The bartender finally made his way over, looking at Frankie anticipatorily, but Frankie seemed hesitant. “Well, I’m gonna go pay my bill—“

“No, let me,” he intervened with his hand on your arm. “I’m honestly ready to leave, too.”

“You gonna order anything?” the bartender asked, annoyed by the delay. Frankie leaned over the bar and ordered a vodka-cranberry and then pointed over at the table his group was sitting at, the bartender nodding before walking off to prepare the drink.

“Alright, let’s go take care of the tab.” He turned back to you with a friendly but soft smile, his hand resting on your upper back as he guided you through the crowded room to the bartender set up by the till. Frankie paid for both of your bills as if it was nothing, as if anyone would have done the same thing. You couldn’t help but glance over at the girl he was with, comparing yourself to her. She was thinner, not by much but enough for you to realize it. Her hair was freshly styled, her nails polished and manicured. She seemed to be a newer and improved version of yourself, the image of someone untainted by heartbreak. Soon a pit of guilt formed in your stomach as you considered the fact that your interacting with Frankie tonight would be the first blow to her heart. Did she love him? Would that be enough to stop you?

“So…do you live at the same place you used to?” Frankie asked at the counter while he waited for change.

“I do,” you turned back to him and admitted.

“I could walk you home,” he offered with a shrug. “No funny business. I just…I guess I want a chance to talk.”

“What about your date?” you asked, a nervous chuckle slipping from your lips to cover your guilt.

“She’s with her friends, and truthfully…I think our friendship has run its course.” Perhaps in another reality you’d be strong enough to turn him down, but in this reality your heart still belonged to him. It would always belong to him.

With a nod, you accepted his offer and headed outside to wait for him as he grabbed his coat and bid his group goodbye.

You watched from the window as your replacement scolded him, her voice loud enough to cut over the music and through the glass separating the two of you. Frankie never did well with loudness, with screaming and fighting. You wondered what drew him to her in the first place.

When he finally made it outside, he let out a sigh and shook his head.

“Well,” he said, giving you a laugh. “That went well.”

“Yeah, I could see,” you pointed at the window. “I feel bad.”

“Don’t,” he commanded, shaking his head. “I’d leave anyone to have a chance at talking to you again.”

You tried not to melt at his words, tried not to put stock into them, but was it possible that five years could have changed him? Could have made him realize that you truly loved him, and that it was all you ever wanted to do?

“So,” he began as the two of you made your way through the downtown neighborhood towards your apartment complex about a mile away. “I guess I want to say sorry first and foremost.”

You turned your head to watch him, his eyes fixed forward while his hands twitched in his pocket.

“I…I was scared,” he confessed, his voice softer, more vulnerable as he glanced at you. “You loved me in a way that I’ve never been loved before, and that was scary. I never thought—I don’t know. Never thought I deserved it, so I turned myself into someone who didn’t. But, I really need you to know that I loved you, too. I just didn’t know what to do with it. Didn’t trust myself with it, I guess.”

“I did,” you replied, bumping your shoulder against his. “I trusted you with it. But I could see the fight going on inside, and I could see that I was losing. I didn’t know why I was losing. It seemed so simple to me—I love you and you love me so why can’t we just be together? Be more than these two friends who fuck?”

“Yeah—“ He swallowed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I was…young and stupid. I wish that was a better excuse.”

At your doorstep, you turned to him with a twisted smile, unsure of what to do next. You’d talked through the wounds you left on each other as best as you could with a few drinks in your system, but what came next?

“So…” you started, swaying a bit as you looked up at him. Frankie’s smile turned boyish as he looked down at you, a chuckle escaping his lips as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Would, uh…” He bit his lip as he paused to reconsider his proposition. “Would you maybe want to grab breakfast tomorrow? There’s this new diner on 32nd street—“

“Oh my god, Brownies?”

“Yeah!” He laughed, your eyes locking as the two of you wondered how many times you must’ve missed each other in this small town. “I go there every Sunday with Caro.”

Oh, how you missed his baby girl. She was only three when you’d last seen her, making her eight years old now. How time flies.

“I go every Saturday,” you admitted with a chuckle. “Would I be throwing off your schedule by making you go two days in a row?”

“No,” he assured. “Any excuse for chocolate chip waffles, I’ll take.”

You laughed and nodded, looking down at your feet.

“Well, in that case, yes. I’d love to.”

“One more thing, and feel free to say no—“

“Can you kiss me?” you interrupted, watching as his smile grew into a grin.

“You beat me to it,” he laughed.

“Is that a yes?” you asked with a girlish and flirty smile. Frankie’s hand found your jaw, cradling it gently as he leaned in slowly, the anticipation burning in your belly. When his lips met yours, you swore you’d died and gone to heaven. It was as if nothing had ever changed between the two of you, that spark that only he could light inside of you quickly turning into a flame as you melted against him, clutching at his flannel. When he pulled away, you almost whined. Frankie smiled and rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For all this lost time.”

“We can make it up,” you assured with a smile of your own. “Starting tomorrow.”

“See you then, baby.”

•

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales oneshot #frankie morales x you #frankie morales angst #frankie morales #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales triple frontier

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rise-my-angel · 1 year ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

19 - Trust in the Gentle Rasps

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 14.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, discussions of warfare, suicidal ideation, grief and trauma, jealousy, posessive tendencies, male sexual assault victim discussion, smut, oral (f receiving), slight canon divergence

Notes: This was one of my favorite chapters to write by far, so hope you enjoy! Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Your quiet was palpable since nearing the water. Travelling west along the runs of the Wall had been easy, but it also meant that none of it felt quite real until now. Much like the last time it seemed, once arriving the body of water needing to cross, you could no longer deny what you were walking into. As soon as the men had crossed the bridge over the Trident it was blood which followed for years until you lay in your own. But whereas then your quiet was the uncertainty of what was to come, this time your quiet was the shadowing memories of what was lost.

Bringing death and loss to the doorsteps of those who experienced it beside you last time, only now the plea was desperate and you were not the person any would remember. Asking them to make the same choice that ended in a massacre only so that they could hope to stand and fight against one even darker upon the horizon. Camp was being made some distance from the shore as you hovered back.

The footsteps which approached you belonging to one of the only people brave enough to approach you when poised with such tense rigidness and sharp cold in your eyes as you looked over things. “I didn’t imagine you were one to stand back and watch others take over for you.” Nothing but curiosity in Ser Davos’s voice as you both stood side by side now. You didn’t respond but he took no offence. “Not from what I saw in you that day, either. You’re a more confident leader then this, your grace.”

Fingers clenching in your crossed arms before inhaling deeply. “I am not the one they chose to follow. If I had to do this alone, I would have. But not a single one of these men would be here if he wasn’t.” Your eyes sharp as they followed Jon across the way.

You were more distant with him then ever.

“He is only here because of you.”

A waver in your breath, you finally glanced away from the distant figure to look at Ser Davos. Slightly shaking your head as you tried to stand as calm and unaffected as you could manage. “He’s here because the North is his home, and he’s fighting to protect it. Doesn’t need me for that. The North never has.”

You didn’t want to see the understanding sympathy in Davos’s eyes, you knew it wasn’t just one you were talking of. You failed to see yourself as anything worthy in either of their lives and only the remaining wonder if you had not been there, would they have avoided death? Was your presence this time an omen that blood would follow once more for such a leader? You were too involved in a life he had been forging without you.

Leaning down more towards your side, his own voice lowered to match your tone. “You wouldn’t know that if you keep avoiding him, now would you?” Turning away as your eyes peeled from him in a glare to out back to the settling camp of free folk your jaw clenched harshly. “I’m not trying to involve myself in your affairs, your grace, but I do know he’s as tense as you are. And two tense leaders who refuse to speak to each other isn’t what I’d call good for morale.”

It would be so much easier if you didn’t feel as if your lives were constantly trying to circle around each others like magnetic pulls wishing to attach. Would be easier if you just could detach from whatever this all was and do what needs to be done and forget the rest. But you didn’t have nearly enough of your father in you for that.

“I wasn’t the one who acted as their peacekeeper, not sure these men really would care about what I add to their spirits or not. Seem to be doing just fine.” Truly you were grateful but you could slink into the waters ahead and never return, and the cause and leader they followed would stay the same.

Good thing about Davos, he knew well enough when to not push one or the other. Unfortunate for you, there was very little he could broach that wasn’t going to give you a headache further. “Surprised me that you allowed your mother to come along.”

“So was she.” You gave her little room to argue or question, but you knew leaving her alone either at Castle Black or worse, sending her home unprotected at Dragonstone was only with grim prospects. “If all she has left is me, then it does not matter what issues lay between us. She would have no one left, and that...mother’s need something, someone left to live for no matter how strained.”

Your instructions were clear, she is not to involve herself in this war or planning in anyway, and she is to keep thoughts of this religion of hers to herself. The last thing this cause needed was more whispers of unnatural abilities or other world like purposes. “She’s not good at saying it, but she’s grateful you care. Though most of your family isn’t good at saying what they mean, are you?”

It barley caught the hint of even the halfest of smirks. More of a tiny glint in your eye that faded as quickly as it sparked as he continued. “Never seen this many wildlings in once place.”

“I think they prefer the term, free folk.”

Right back to the start he was correcting himself. “Never seen this many free folk in once place.”

“If I’m not mistaken, Ser Davos neither you or I have ever seen any free folk until meeting them, period.” Technically you had met one but hardly for long. Bran had told Sam that Osha took Rickon alone to saftey when he went beyond the wall with Howland Reed’s children. You had no reason not to trust her, you just hoped she could keep him safe in the same overwhelming dread of two teenagers, Hodor, and Summer all there was to keep Bran safe beyond the wall. Not noting your wondering mind, Davos chuckled beside you, and you wished you could as well. “I just hope they understand what they’re truly getting involved in.”

You heard the man before you saw him, a rumbling laugh before he was brave enough to slap an arm around your shoulder as the simple force jostled you. “You doubting us already, pretty crow?” Never did quite get used to how large Tormund stood beside you, like a cliff that was pained orange only with much more vulgar echoes.

Flickering your eyes to the side, you didn’t move much more but there was at least more of a hint of amusement then before. “No. I simply understand it’s a strange fight you’ve decided to involve yourselves in, after everything that’s happened I mean.”

Shrugging to himself, he looked back to the camp and pulled you in closer. Giving Ser Davos a slight bit of whiplash as to how used to being yanked around by such a large figure you appeared. You spent three years with Maege Mormont, you were no stranger to being jostled around by loud personalities, but the thought made you swallow. Trying not to think about what would happen when you get there and who wasn’t. You knew Dacey hadn’t gotten out that day, and it made you sick to think about.

The two Mormont’s meant much to you, helped ease you into something normal in an army camp as they cared not to watch their tones with you. Dacey didn’t deserve to have her life end at the Twins like that, none of them did. Too many faces you wondered about, some more then others.

Tormund beside you, paid no mind to your thoughts. “After everything? You mean after seeing the dead rise up after getting slaughtered? You southerners aren’t so bad compared to that.”

A moment of quiet between you three before finally speaking up in more command. “I want you coming with us when we travel across.” Both men turned to you with a curious look but you only kept your eye out onto the distant water. “We stayed a ways back so they wouldn’t feel ambushed, but if we are going to get them to say yes, then we shouldn’t shy away from the fact that they’ll be agreeing to fight beside your people.”

A deep humour in his voice with long exaggerated sound out of each word, “I am honoured, your grace.”

For once, that actually got a small smirk out of you. A lightness in your tone that tried to fight away and failed. “Now that just sounded wrong coming out of your mouth.” Tormund laughed as well, knowing only he was watching a far pair of eyes narrowing in this very direction.

Choosing to look as much in them as he could manage as he leaned down to you, “So what does a pretty crow like you prefer to be called?”

Rolling your eyes at such a jest, you fell not for the bait without knowing it was even cast. “Tormund, I am fairly certain it doesn’t matter what I say you will just continue to call me whatever term finds itself in your head.”

It would not be many of you, Jon, Davos, Tormund, Theon, Selyse, and yourself being escorted to the main land of Bear Island hoping it sent a message of civility. There was no real threat of enemy being given from House Mormont and yet as you stepped onto the deck of the boat you felt your heart race. It didn’t matter how many of you there were. An army didn’t save from a massacre the last time you went to a meeting with what was supposed to be an ally.

Still, you stayed on the opposite end as he did. If you didn’t know what to say in private then you were surely lost as to what to say to him in the fake quiet just out of others earshot. But you felt his eyes on you, and thus yours stayed attached to the waters ahead.

“Starting to tell who is used to being on a ship.” Turning to look at Theon, your eyes were slightly squinting from the winds in them but otherwise a little more calm washed through. You were perched against the back wall leading to the bow with both legs hanging over the deck and a hand resting casually on a rope by you. He gestured to your posture himself, “Don’t think I’ve seen you this relaxed in a while either.”

Theon leaned against the edge, his arms folded against the wood just beside where you sat looking out to the waters passing. “You forget, I grew up on an island as well. Spent half my time on ships going from White Harbour, to Dragonstone, to King’s Landing and back. This is nothing.”

Davos was the only other who found agreement in the breeze. Long time his job was travelling along waters but in the recent years of his life they weren’t in hiding from any eyes. At least he and your mother were used to keeping the other’s company by this point. You didn’t want her to be alone, but that didn’t mean you had a clue how to talk to her.

Both you and Theon stuck to looking out to the waters with little focus on any else, it was nice. For a moment, it felt like the days when you were both just teenagers not having to care about the politics around. “I forgot until I got there, how salty Pyke smelled. Even in the summer Winterfell was always so crisp and it wasn’t until I was on a boat did I remember that not being able to smell the sea used to be so odd.”

You managed to find half a smile in your heart, “I always thought anywhere would be better then Dragonstone. Only on the beach did it really smell like the sea, otherwise the further from the castle you go, the more it just smells like brimstone. The deeper into the trees you go the worse that gets.” You could still see her. Hoisted up onto the edge of a rock so she sat level with your height as you both looked down to where you knew deep tunnels were formed under the surface. She hardly left the main bounds of the castle, so Shireen always loved the smell of brimstone. To her it was like the scent of adventure.

Amused slightly, he asked, “You saying Winterfell smells worse then that place?”

No hesitation as your face grimaced in the memory. “No, I’m saying that King’s Landing smells worse then all it combined.” Theon looking curiously at you, but your eyes only kept in the distance as the land grew closer. “Too many people packed into too small of a city, everyone is poor the moment you leave the Red Keep and no one cares about it. Add a summer heat onto that and you get the worse smelling city you’ve ever come across. That I certainly don’t miss.”

“Do you miss anything about it?”

You were quick, tone dropping to something harsh. “No. I was always miserable there. Either I was being dragged away from my sister, or I was being dragged away from..” Swallowing thickly you tried to drop the weight from so high in your throat. “Constantly going from King’s Landing to Winterfell was awful. I was so miserable everytime I got back to the capitol and everyone knew it. Renly used to always say everywhere but Winterfell disagreed with me.”

“He was right.” Your eyes finally meeting. “Much as we try to tell ourselves otherwise, or how long we spent where we grew up, the North was our home. Where our actual family was.” Not a sea sick, but that weight dropped from your throat to your heart and the dizziness from it made you feel nauseous.

“Hard to remember that some days.”

It wasn’t home where you were both kept, it wasn’t home where you were trapped and tortured sometimes only done in mocking of the other. It wasn’t family that brought you back home, that wasn’t a place you belonged. That wasn’t the home what Robb once told you that you belonged in. Even if this was successful, even if you reclaimed it, it was hard to imagine finding a home there once more behind this loneliness.

“Do you ever wonder whether or not it would’ve been better if you left me there?” You didn’t look, you could feel a narrowed sharp gaze on you from Theon but you didn’t want to handle it beyond the swirling in your own mind. “Escape with your own life, and spare the spiral of death that’s done nothing but follow where I go now?”

The weight in his voice made you feel only more sick on the inside. “No. But do you know what it is I do wonder? Whether or not you’ve actually gotten past wishing you were still dead.” A stab in your mind pricked at something that was sharp and full of a sting behind your eyes. “For a long time with him, there was nothing. Took everything about who I was and killed it. Until he dragged me down to see you. And then the only thing that kept me trying to fight to stay myself was knowing that any day I could wake up and you would’ve taken your own life just to make him stop. So I got you out of there, got us out but then some days, I don’t know if I really did. I think you’re still trapped with Ramsay wishing you were dead.”

Truth be told, he wasn’t wrong. Theon knew what that pain inside you was, because he had watched it fester for over a year before you finally ran out into the freezing cold to escape it. But you were still in that place, reliving those nightmares from The Twins and waking up to the violence Ramsay would enjoy throwing your way. And ever since leaving all you did was drag that violence and burden along behind you to weigh down and hurt everyone else with.

And it was nothing but feeling selfish that made you want to jump into these waters and let it take you to the bottom forever. Who would still be alive were you to have stayed dead? If not beside Robb, then at least by taking the less cowardly route and end yourself before you brought this blood to others doorsteps. “There are far too many eyes on me at all times to get away with that now.”

To you it was meant as a joke, but to Theon it was anything but. “No. You’re just going to make the rest of us watch as you do it slowly over time.”

You didn’t argue. He didn’t elaborate. Theon was right but you had no defence, excuse or otherwise to refute it. The only good memories you had left, the only things you found to give any breathe in your lungs were marred in only doing it beacuse you were weak. At least that was what it felt like.

Bear Island was a far more beautiful Island then Dragonstone. Cliff sides of rock that were naturally carved into the thick trees surrounding each clearing of land and water that splashed against them or poured down from pools pocketing the surface. The air was as crisp as ever and the faint misting of water against those rocky shores poured back down onto the boat.

You always loved that mist. In the heat of summer it was a refreshing reprieve from how thick the air was that only ever faded the closer to King’s Landing you sailed. Calm waters in a dense and busy port that was as loud and crowded as it was hot. This wasn’t that, you jumped down from your perched place and braced both hands onto the edge of the boat to look over the coming Keep with wider eyes.

The last time you looked out to the water shining in the sun also painted in your mind, and you felt a twisting in your stomach and the freezing that followed as it bled out in minutes. Suddenly there was a lot less calm, and far more creeping dread inside that you could feel yourself growing dizzy from it’s volume.

As the ship finally docked, you inhaled with your eyes firmly shut for a moment before turning to rejoin the world. Meeting Jon’s eyes as you both made your way to the middle, there was a moment of just firm understanding for the meeting to come. Whatever this was, you had to do it together it was the only way.

He didn’t put a hand on you as he gestured politely for you to pass, but he could easily see the unusual amount of tension strung high in your shoulders. A few guards coming to greet you as Jon took the mantle up to introduce you both by proper name. Keeping it as unmessy as possible with titles now that you both know what of that loomed.

It was strange though, realizing for the first time you had never heard Jon refer to you as anything but a Baratheon. Hearing Stark felt wrong coming from him, but you weren’t sure why, not realizing it was just as strange for him to say it. You as a Stark felt like a different person then the one he knew for so many years, but yet in the quiet and dark you were exactly that same Baratheon he remembered.

If there was talking around you or Jon, neither of you really noticed it. Conversation scattered behind you both between four behind you, who other then now would never have conceived of meeting and ahead two people who knew each other far better then this hurtful silence had any right being attached too.

Tormund and Theon finding a strange array of things to talk about, both coming from culture’s with some of the most bloodshed focused of traditions. Davos and Selyse alongside them, much more quiet but still civil and calm. If any of them noticed the oddity that was the painful silence between you and Jon, none spoke of it.

Coming up to the steps of the castle, you tried not to glance beside you, not to notice the way the mist of the shores had his curls sitting a little less wild in it’s dampness. And biting your tongue with a glare to nothing trying very much to ignore the images in your head and memories your body was asking to relive.

But as he turned to you, if Jon noticed the intentions behind your already watching eyes he didn’t address it. Voice low and in a bit of comfort to your own, sounded the faintest hint of unsure. “Hope you and I know the Mormont’s as well we think.”

Easing those same nerves as you were led inside you nodded to the sword at his side. “I wasn’t the one who was trusted to be given their ancient sword.”

His own tone was more teasing, as was the glint in his eyes looking back at you. “And I’m not the one they followed into war calling a Queen.”

Your eyes now on the halls in front, missing the genuine smile you got from him. “Would be a bit strange if they started calling you a Queen, Snow.” That was a small jest he felt it had been a long time since he had heard from you. Always calling him that only when you were in your own gentle teasing mood, yet it was never even possible to match the levels he could dish to you in particular.

Still, something about how easily the lightness slipped from your mouth, felt like hope.

Alysane Mormont looked remarkably like a younger version of her mother. Tall and large with a bright look in her eye as she stood behind the one sitting in the desk. This one you heard of more, the youngest, Lyanna sat very small and young at only ten. Alysane was older, but seemed to be giving the youngest a chance at being in charge as she watched her carefully.

At least until Jon went to greet them both. Which was when the older one spoke up looking at you with a squint. “Never thought we’d see a Queen in our halls. Let alone a dead one.”

Her tone was light, but gods was the look and air shared between you and Jon anything but. You wanted to be intimidating, wanted to put on the best face but you knew their mother and you knew it wasn’t stilted formality the older woman had responded too.

Your own glance to Alysane with a raised eyebrow, “I never thought I’d wake up after dying. We both get to experience something new.” It was very easy to see her mother in her, letting her sister take the reigns but she watched with something like a fondness as you softened a bit. “I also know Dacey wasn’t given the same chance, and I’m sorry.”

Little Lyanna was as quick as she had been described. “It wasn’t you who killed her.”

You wanted none of that, looking more seriously at her. “No, I didn’t. But someone should take responsibility for it, and she called me Queen which means it’s me to take that blame.”

Her eyes narrowed with a strange look to you, as Alysane turned to look beside you. “You’re here, which means this is Jon Snow, I take it? The King’s brother.”

It was heavy between both of you, and his voice was rough as he spoke. “I am. I also served under your Uncle at Castle Black, my lady. I was his steward.”

Lyanna watched, but it was recognition in her sister’s eyes that was of interest. Glancing down only for a second to where the hilt of Longclaw could be seen, before glancing back up to look at him with something that certainly made the air feel a little more interesting. “Last I heard you were named Lord Commander after him. What’s Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch doing at our Queen’s side all the way here?”

You narrowed your eyes, as she certainly would know. But Jon didn’t play along with whatever game the ladies were trying to set up as he looked to Lyanna. “We’re here to ask for your help. I know Stannis Baratheon tried to pledge your house to his army, and I was shown your response, Lady Lyanna. Bear Island knows no King, but the King in the North. Whose name is Stark.”

Moment of weakness, your eyes flickered over to him. Standing tall and sure it was easy to see why he’d be chosen as Lord Commander. Even in deep quiet tones, he spoke as a leader.

“Now I may not be a Stark in name, but Robb was my brother, and the home and Kingdom he died for is being torn apart by the Boltons. And I also know that the same man who murdered him and shoved a knife in her stomach.” Jon gestured to you with something of a controlled anger in his voice and clear as day on his face. “Kept your Queen as their prisoner, and spent almost a year being tortured by them beyond anything you can imagine. Roose and Ramsay Bolton cannot be allowed to keep Winterfell, and as long as they do, the North will continue to suffer. With Robb gone, that means it is my duty to stop them.”

Unseen by most of the party, but as Ser Davos stood to the side there was a bit of a proud smile trying to fight it’s way onto his face. Jon was not quite as stubborn as Stannis had seemed to think.

The younger one glancing to her sister before turning back to the pair of you with her own doubtful eyes. “You mean to protect the North, but you bring wildlings into our land, and one into my home?”

An eyebrow raised on you, “Forgive me, my lady but it seems you might be misunderstanding what we are here for.” All eyes turned to you as you found something of a voice, “Jon and I are not here to ask you to make friends. The Free Folk and the Night’s Watch have been fighting each other for thousands of years and yet now there is an army of them on the mainland who followed Jon all this way because they understand this is more important then who our enemies were before.”

Something in you couldn’t let it passed. Something deep that remembered, as you sat against the bars in an unknowing shock, staring at the corpse of the man next to you. And in the worst of that moment, it was Tormund who came to sit at your side. Who helped you stand and regain your focus to do what needed to be done that day. “Both of these men fought against each other, murdered men on the other side of their fight but now they stand here together because they understand that if we can’t protect the North from each other then we cannot protect it from whats coming.”

A silence was thick in that room. “And what exactly is coming, your grace?”

You could see the visions and dreams of cold and ice but it was Jon who answered for you. “Summer is over, and winter isn’t just coming, my lady. It’s already here. And when the worst of it hits, so will the dead, and with them, the Others.” Both women shared a look, but there was no amusement in any of the eyes in the room standing before them. Jon’s own was filled with a haunting memory. “I went to Hardhome beyond the wall to bring the free folk south, because the Others are awake, and they’re building their own army. I saw them, I fought them, I even killed one of them and when it was all over I watched every single person who died stand up beside them.”

Stepping forward to the desk, there was an undeniable determination in his eyes that made both Mormonts almost shrink back from it’s intensity. His palms leaning against the desk to properly look the more defiant one on equal ground. “If we can’t protect the North from ourselves, then when the Others come, we won’t stand a chance. The free folk have attacked Bear Island many times over I know that, they held me prisoner in their own lands where at any moment he,”

He turned partially, gesturing to Tormund behind him, “or any of the others I was with were ready to kill me the second they realized I wasn’t on their side. But now he’s trusted his people with me, because we cannot fight a war amongst ourselves and expect there to be enough of us to fight the only one that matters. There’s no hiding from this. We have to fight, and we have to do it together. All of us.”

Alysane looked at you with a questioning gaze that you almost willed her not to bring up. Letting Lyanna prove her valour and stand her ground in making a choice for her people, and it was a relieving feeling when the small girl looked up at Jon almost impressed. “House Mormont has kept faith with House Stark for thousands of years. And we will not break faith today.”

Jon nodded, standing up straighter. “Thank you, my lady. But I’m not asking you on behalf of House Stark. I’m only asking you to protect the North we both grew up in, not for my family, and not for any oaths you swore to them. I’m a Northerner just like you, all I’m asking is you fight beside me as one as well.”

Your eyes slipped shut. You knew she was going to say it, and it was precisely why you wanted Jon to understand exactly what this was going to be. Alysane was the one who likely knew it, if not both the surely the now eldest daughter she would know. “Are you though?”

Jon turned his head to her, a confusion in his own eyes that slipped to a well hidden realization. If he were to be honest if you had asked, he had almost forgotten about that conversation. It was a little too easy, almost embarrassingly so to forget that conversation when he was torn between this coming wars and trying very hard not to obsess like an animal over how to fix things between you.

But as she spoke, you could feel all four pairs of eyes turn to you from behind as Jon looked at Alysane. Perhaps you should have warned them of this as well. “Only asking us a Northerner? The King in the North we chose was your brother. My mother brought our men to fight for Robb Stark against the Lannisters, my eldest sister was killed the same night the Freys and Boltons killed the King, and his Queen.” Her eyes were curious and it painfully reminded you of the knowing look Maege Mormont had given you when you realized she knew you were hiding being with child.

Your voice was a bit cracked, as Jon took a step back now closer to your side then he was when this meeting first started. Speaking, you tried not to think about how comforting being close to him currently felt. “If you would like Lady Alysane, Jon and I could stand here and show you the scars that killed us both if you are with doubt of our story or intentions, though it might be a tad indecent in front of your younger sister.”

They had heard rumours of you, but not of him and yet not a single one in your own group looked as if it were untrue or merely a joke. House Mormont was your best shot, and you knew you had to lay our cards out on the table as plain as possible. No matter how uncomfortable.

For a moment she looked taken back, “Your grace that was not..” She glanced between you both with something in her eyes that looked just like the awing fear many had thrown you and Jon at Castle Black and amongst the free folk. “It was not my intention to doubt, we have no reason to think either of yourselves would come to us with lies. My mother trusted you, and my uncle you.” Nodding to you then Jon respectively. “I merely mean he isn’t just asking us as a Northerner-”

You could still see two faces, one on Jons of a stunned feeling when you told him, and the other of Robb as there was nothing but confidence and love as he made it clear to all of his decision. You were quiet, and Jon was thankful you spoke for him this time. “Help us reclaim the North first. Nothing is as important as this fight, right now. The Bolton’s will soon know we are coming for them and we need as much of the North together as we can for when we come to their doors.”

The two Mormonts shared a look. Lady Lyanna looking up to both of you, “I can give you sixty two of my our own household guard, and whatever of our own men my mother can provide you with.”

Your eyes perked up slightly, as did a jolt in your heart. She was one you did not know the fate of. “Is she currently available to meet with ourselves?”

Alysane tilted her head in question, “She should be returning to the keep by nightfall, left us in charge while she rallied up men as soon a she got your raven, your grace.” You and her both looked at each other with a unique little moment of glee. Alysane had heard much of you, not just as a Queen, but as someone who her mother clearly considered a most valuable friend. “We can provide you all with food and room for the night if you are willing to wait here for her return.”

Grey eyes found yours, and in your single nod, Jon wasn’t sure but he seemed to sense exactly what it was you were saying. Or more, you seemed to understand his silent question and agreed. “You’re very kind, we would be glad too.”

A small comment from Davos, that it seemed, managed to make the little Lyanna smile a bit more like the child she was. “If these men are half as ferocious as you two, the Boltons are doomed.”

It was just as you were departing, did Alysane call for you once more. Turning back into the room you looked expectantly. “There is a man in your group, one who looks an awful lot like Theon Greyjoy.”

She said nothing else of the matter, but you didn’t even move to fully face her as you spoke with a quiet sternness. “That would be beacuse he is, my lady.” Asking why you would allow him here with his life you didn’t even blink. “It was the sentence given by both the King in the North and myself for Theon to be brought to him for execution. And now he stands by my side with his head intact. I will only ask you trust that means his crimes have been paid for, and mention it no more.”

It was that very one who was turned back to watch as you finally followed, and for just a moment you both looked to the other with a distant unsettled feeling. These people will have no idea just what he’d been through and how many times over it paid for his crimes. But as you nodded for him to move forward along side you, you figured that if they could trust wildlings through Jon they could trust Theon through you.

Nightfall seemed to bring storm clouds onto Bear Island. The gold of the evening fading out as you considered if it was worthwhile to bother heading inside. Not on the side of too dark, but the wind picked up as soon no doubt rain would splatter onto the waters you were looking out at in a matter of time.

Deepwood Motte was where you would descend on next and reports were still accurate, Ironborn likely still sat deep in the area and getting House Glover on your side would require a fight no doubt. It felt like a lifetime seen you’d seen any kind off violence on fair battle, more so making you wonder if you even had it in you anymore. This wasn’t the same unified fight as it once was, this was a scattered group desperate to unify before it was too late. Group of people who were struggling to find harmony when there was no question of that the first time.

Everything this time around already started in something broken. A cause that you had to convince people of, from two people who could barley look at each other by now. All this talk of what was meant and destined, but it all felt so disjointed the second you two were alone. You never used to be this way, it was always so easy being with Jon.

If you were being true to yourself, you were fairly certain that the night before this all kicked off was the first time either of you had ever even argued. Normally finding little to even disagree on, and it wasn’t something you enjoyed doing. You liked getting to the point or just shutting it out until it simmered but then he kept talking and you couldn’t keep it to yourself. You had spoken more today then the entire journey to get to Bear Island from Castle Black.

Maybe you could slink way in the rain, disappear and him to lead this fight as a true leader on his own and find success within that.

Enough time had passed all on your own that you hadn’t noticed until the sun begun to set. Didn’t notice that you had missed any appearance in a meal. Your back laid flat on the edge of a stone walls, just looking out to the lands and water, hoping when it rained you would melt with it.

Jon really should have known better. He knew Tormund was trying to poke at him, trying to set off something that the man knew he was holding back and yet he still let it get to him. Earlier that day, there was no other reason he was making such direct eye contact with him across the camp other then to burn that part of Jon’s insides that hated seeing someone else with you so freely.

He had never had that, and he still didn’t. He could, it didn’t seem like many objected to the idea and even noticed on his part. Uncomfortably he was well aware of the curious stares your mother had been giving him, and he had no idea how to feel about that. Like every Baratheon in your family, Selyse was incredibly hard to read beyond such a stoned expression and sharp but watchful eyes. Even moreso now that much of this group had stuck together since arriving, but like you, she was very quiet.

He had known the woman seemed to be pushing you to some ideas of destiny. It was that of a trick he did, but having no idea where you were, Jon focused enough. Just the right amount of energy that never stopped feeling bone chilling when it happened. If he did it now it would be even stranger, Ghost being on the mainlands and none would know it was Jon through his eyes. But he trusted them to keep peace without having to babysit.

You however, he was started to think he should just chain you to him for how often you slunk away on your own. Missing the offer of food from the Mormonts, no one knew where you were. And it was that damned orange haired smug smile of Tormund's as he looked to Jon, “Aye, she probably just needs the right kind of company. If no one else objects-”

Jon took it upon himself to stand abruptly from the table with a deep grumble as he glared. “No need. I’ll go.” Before walking out without waiting for any response. He never had to deal with what this was. It was different with Robb, neither of you chose that and Jon left before he was forced to watch whatever it turned into. Until he did, but from what he knew now that you’d seen a fair share of your own.

Jon knew why it was more difficult for you. Neither you nor Robb had any choice, it was a surprise to everyone and you made the best of what you were dealt. He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted you and Robb to love each other and he was proud his brother did find someone who made him happy. But no one involved got to choose, there was no freedom there.

But he never talked about Ygritte, and all you could gather was whispers from others and what the gods had unfairly chosen to show you. All you had seen, was Jon finding something with her that he could never have with you. Ygritte herself tried to argue with him that this was freedom, he could choose to do whatever he wanted and it didn’t matter what they were long as they had each other.

Freedom of course, coming at the cost of Jon’s well being. It took a very long time for him to admit the truth to himself and even now it felt pathetic to say. But it was her, or death. Nothing else. Prove your worth they said, and proving it was to give her the one thing Jon had spent years dreaming of sharing with you. Convince himself it was good just because of how it felt, telling himself because sometimes he saw the amusing sides of her that that was the true picture.

But then you asked him that final night and the last of his lies snapped and he let it all explode between the two of you. You had gone to the top of the wall before, looking out to the North one last time in the freezing cold. “I should take you to see how strange it looks from the South during the daytime in some places.”

“I think I already have.”

Posed on the edge of the bed he looked up to you, both of your minds trailing to that strange moment thousands of miles away from each other. Eyes wide before something uncomfortable sat in his chest and moved to his heart. Swallowing with a nod he dropped his head. “Right.” He didn’t in that moment know why he spat it out, but he did. “I didn’t love her. Ygritte..I didn’t love her.”

You paused mid movement, turning away from him as your brows narrowed, mumbling. “It isn’t my business if you did.” Jon trying to call your name, get you to look at him but you just shook your head facing away from him. “She was someone you could be with, could be together with. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Jon sighed, trying to get you to look at him but you just kept looking away. You weren’t malicious, or cruel, or even going for something with an agenda. It was an innocent, quiet question. “Why not? Love her I mean. Why not?”

It was unfair to let it out on you but he did. “You’re really asking me why I didn’t love her? You?”

Turning around it was obvious you were confused, but he barrelled on through your protests of confusion at his anger. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved my entire life. Do you really think the second you’re gone I’m going to just fall for the first woman who comes along? That I forgot about you that easy?” You tried saying his name but he was getting louder, and he knew he needed to pull it back but it wasn’t really you he was looking at.

It was a far more defiant face who pushed him and pushed him all day long until she broke him enough that he relented, and then every support she gave him was in value of something Jon never was or wanted to be. An anger in her own eyes that you never even came close to looking at him with, and a combative attitude that was exhausting, and would constantly strip away at his own self worth.

Standing up, he saw your guarded expression as you barley blinked or moved only for it to look like her smug smirk that mocked him relentlessly until he was exactly what she wanted. “Spending every night having to put my own direwolf between us beacuse she’d spend the whole time trying to get close to me, mocking me for never sleeping with a woman just because it was the one string she could pull at and get a reaction? Are those the things I should have fallen in love with?”

You didn’t know these things, and he knew that.

“Or was it when every single person in their camp wanted me dead and the only way I could protect my own life, was to send Ghost away because I knew he’d never let her near me if he stayed? Or how the only reason I even could stand touching her was beacuse I kept seeing you in my head instead?” He was right in front of you by that point and you hadn’t moved what so ever. He wasn’t even sure you had blinked. “That’s the person you think I should've fallen in love with after you? A girl who didn’t respect a single thing about me, and was only letting me stay alive beacuse she took everything I had left to defend myself and made me fuck her against my will.”

He never said it out loud like that, and as soon as he did, Jon felt something twist inside of him he did not like. Something that felt sickening. And as you looked at him with soft eyes that he wanted to fall into, he instead let his head spin and skin feel filthy.

You softly muttered his name, “Jon..”

Jon had refused to let himself come any closer. Turning around and running a hand over his mouth looking at the floor before you. “Ygritte took everything from me that I always wanted to give to you, and then had me tricking myself into thinking it was real only as long as it kept me alive. And while I was lying to myself about being with her, you and Robb were murdered. When I finally got away, I tried to play off her feelings and say she wouldn’t hurt me because she loved me and it got me shot full of arrows and dreaming about you in a pool of your own blood only to wake up and find out it was real.”

Clearly you were trying to keep an even tone in your whisper. “Why not tell someone the truth?”

He glared at you, when you didn’t deserve it voice deep as it rasped out, “No one would believe me. A man of the Night’s Watch letting a wildling girl take advantage of him? The only person who would’ve cared about any of it was dead, and when I finally get her back in front of me, she tells me I’m wasting my time trying to love her again. You think that makes me feel good?”

You bit your tongue, and Jon hadn’t quite grasped until later that it was your own nightmares flashing through your mind, showing exactly why you weren’t worth someone like him. You had always held him in a higher regard then he thought he deserved, and he knew you were still doing it now. Only now it was with a lot more pain.

“I wasn’t trying to..I didn’t know..I’m sorry.”

It was tense in the air, and something needed to break before it all was thick enough to choke on. Jon did it first as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Neither of you looking at each other. “I know you loved Robb, and he loved you. I wanted you both to and I’m happy you loved each other when you had the chance. But I never wanted to love anybody but you, and I never will. So don’t stand there and tell me I deserved to love someone who stood against every kindness you ever showed me.”

You could only whisper you were sorry, before you walked out. And he hadn’t seen you until morning, a stiff, steeled expression in your eyes and posture. Jon felt a lot of regret, you didn’t deserve to be yelled at for the things Ygritte did, but you were nothing if not an expert at avoiding him these past days.

And it wasn’t until you two walked up to the Keep of Bear Island did he feel like he was slowly getting a bit you back. Now as he looked for you, natural instincts told him where to look. Along the edges of the Keep closer to the water where the setting sun lay and brushing storm clouds were swooping in from.

You always liked cliff sides and water’s edge. No doubt a time from growing up on Dragonstone, and so Jon begun searching along each corner for you, trying to run around in his mind figuring out how to ease you into an apology. How to make it better for yelling at you, even though a sinking part of him had a feeling that you would just forgive him without question.

Not wanting to risk making him mad, and he could only angrily think of how cruel Ramsay was to you to try and beat that little spark and tough fire inside of you down to nothing like this. And how he would even begun putting that flame back like you deserved. You brought Jon back both in life and spirit and he wouldn’t stop until he did the same for you, no matter how you chose to accept him in your life anymore.

Rounding one corner is when he spotted you, leaning back with your arms crossed against a pillar near a set of stairs as your eyes were trained hard on the road in the distance. Slowly Jon came up just behind you, seeing the horses in the distance and the galloping of what sounded like a fair number of them. “Where are the others?”

Glancing back to you, there was almost a hint of anticipation in your eyes that for a moment almost looked childlike. It was strange, both of you so far away having found something of different companionship in the two eldest Mormonts. Leaning his head a bit closer to you, rumbling a bit quietly in your ear. “Hopefully making sure Tormund doesn’t scar Lady Lyanna for life.”

You smirked a small bit, your mood having lightened somewhat since arriving. Even from what he could see, just being on the ship sent you at ease more. “From what I’ve seen I’m not sure there’s much that scares any of them.”

“There is one thing.” His voice low and serious, you both glanced to each other in a knowing that convincing these people to fight a war against their enemies is one thing. Making the rest of the North believe in the rest was another.

Your eyes softened a bit looking at him before you seemed to realize how long you had been, fluttering them back to the growing distance. “You were impressive back there. In that meeting. Leadership suits you.”

Unlike you, Jon felt no need to hide the returning look to you and keep it there for far longer then would normally be considered appropriate. “I’m glad someone thinks so.” Your posture stiffened for only a second with almost panic swirling in your eyes before letting it deflate in a shaking exhale Jon knew you were hoping he didn’t see.

The numbers that gathered were easily groups that were in the hundreds. The woman in front climbed down from a great horse, standing tall and large in stature with a harsh face that squinted as she looked up to both of you before settling on your own person.

Ascending the stairs together, Jon watched the woman look you over before a great smile came over her. “Gods be good, the rumours are true.” You stood a few feet away from her with as much composure as you always had before the larger woman came forward closer to look at you closer. “We never thought you’d be a face we’d ever be seeing again, your grace.”

Only in a single second, the larger woman barrelled you in a large hug, one that she almost laughed into and Jon could see something tight and relieved in your own grip. Pulling you back by your forearms as she looked at you, Jon clearly seeing a smirk plastered on both almost like family. If he were being honest, it felt like a reunion you should have had with your actual mother.

The woman with such a casualness, “And you still look just as shit as the last time I saw you.”

Your tone was light, something much more like a genuine smile coming over the rest of your face as you breathed out from a laugh, “Happy to see you’re still around to keep all those beasts at bay.” As you leaned in for one more embrace, you seemed to have whispered something to her as when the woman turned to look at Jon, there was already a realization in her eyes she was keeping to herself as you stepped back between them.

Her gesturing towards him with her head in a playful glint. “Now, you going to introduce me to the handsome lad or what?”

Coming closer to accept her now outstretched hand, “Jon Snow, my lady. I’m-”

The casual interruption with what she already knew already reminded him of the Old Bear. So nonchalantly would toss information at him Jon didn’t even know how the man found out. “I’ve heard all about you. You’re Robb Stark’s brother.” Stepping back he nodded as she glanced at him with a curiousness in her eye. “You also served under my brother up at the Wall.”

“I did. He was a good man, deserved better then how he died.”

You seemed to glance between them with a narrowed expression before turning to Maege with a more steeled expression once more. “I will go let your daughters know you’ve arrived back. Bring your men here up to speed while I’m at it.”

He didn’t say anything, but there was a look in Jon’s eye trying to pull you back to him. To stop you from running away but as you ascended the steps with a few of those who rode up with some familiarity, Jon was beginning to think he was going to have to corner you to just get you to stay in one place. Not realizing he had been watching for far too long as Maege stepped closer to beside him. “Now I know it’s not me that woman’s running away from.”

There was a curious pointed look in her eye that Jon didn’t respond too. Trying to speak through a vaguely nervous tick of clearing his throat. “She’s been through a lot, still adjusting to some things.”

Maege hummed as she looked at him for another moment before beckoning him to follow her up the steps. “It know too well it won’t help much, but I’m sorry about your brother.” His eyes flickered to the side to a knowing distant pain in the older womans. “Hearing your brother got butchered by his own men thousands of miles away from where you could even try to help. Awful way to die, awful way to find out they died.”

Turning down a path to overlook the waters you likely had just been waiting around she added, “Though, you two also know what that feels like first hand don’t you?” Jon’s heart skipped a beat under the hole above it to remind him. A bit of a chuckle left her at the rigid response given. “Brother was Lord Commander for a long time, I still know men there who keep me in the know. Should I even bother asking how either of you survived or is that why our jumpy Queen there seems so keen on not looking at you?”

Jon swallowed harshly, looking down as his palms braced gently on the stone wall in front of them brows narrowed. “I don’t know how she did it, or if she’s even sure it was her. But I’ve seen her scar and I know there’s no way she didn’t bleed out in minutes.” His voice was rough, and his chest felt heavy at the delirious dreams as he was unconscious seeing it for the first time. “Or why I’m walking around after getting a knife shoved in my heart, but we’re both here and we know as long as the Boltons are allowed to control the North we can’t protect anyone when they come.”

If there was only one thing that could truly haunt Jon in such a dread filled way it was that day. The sight of just how many free folk stood up beside the Others with glowing blue eyes. Staring one of them down feeling as cold and hopeless as ever, knowing that he could cut down as many as them as he could but with the numbers they awoke? If the North stayed this torn apart, Jon wasn’t going to be able to protect anyone.

All that was between them was the splashing of water against the rocks before she spoke up, quiet in tone but with a deeper conviction. “We all followed your brother into war before he he fought his first battle, chose him as our King after the Lannisters murdered your father. Because we believed in him. You lead these men and reclaim the North? They’ll follow you no matter what comes for us beyond that Wall.”

This was why you warned him, it was inevitable. “I’m not here to ask anyone as a King-”

Confidence seeped into her voice. Looking at him with a knowing glint that reminded Jon all too much of the Old Bear. “The King didn’t name you his heir against our will. The two of them came to us with no arguments. You’re Ned Stark’s son and you were his brother and that was all he needed be sure he wanted it to be you. They both did. They both knew you deserved what he had and if none of us thought the same it wouldn’t have been such a damn quick meeting to sign off on it.”

His heart screamed heavy at him, jealous of Robb for so much, for so long that the mere idea that in the end he wanted Jon to succeed him simply because they were brothers put a stop in his throat. Not arguing of politics or duty, but that he wasn’t just forgotten at the wall from his brother. He had missed Jon as much as Jon missed Robb, and in his death only could find one final thing to give to his brother hoping to bring him back home.

It was a weak argument, and she sniffed it out right as he said it. “You still have her, she’s still your Queen to follow.”

Maege smiled at that. “Aye, but she doesn’t want to be our leader. Knows as well as I do that no matter what people try to say, she isn’t her father. Holding that weight up by herself is too much for her, and I could take a guess what sorts of things the Boltons did to her, I think leading us all on her own would crush her. She and your brother worked so well because they were a team. She trusted him much as he did her to the point it’s easy to forget she’s not even a Northern sometimes.”

But what kind of King could Jon ever be compared to Robb? He couldn’t imagine any kind of admiration as he knew Robb had earned from these people, he was ready to lead them into a war of survival but somehow taking up Robb’s mantle as King was the thing that felt daunting.

But it’s what Robb wanted, and he knew it was what you wanted. You just refused to push him into something not knowing if he wanted it. You never pushed him into anything he may not want.

“You didn’t name Robb a King until he started winning battles. Least I can do is wait and see if I win my own this side of the Wall before I start thinking I deserve it.” Maege laughed, something under her breath muttering about you all being stubborn and he had an inkling he just may have started to sound like Robb himself.

There was quiet for a breathe, before she turned tune. “Alright, enough of that. Let me see it.”

Jon looked over to her with a confused expression before she nudged him on the arm, gesturing to his side. “The sword. Been some twenty years since I laid eyes on Longclaw, let me see the wolf.” Pulling it out from it’s sheath, Maege grabbed the hilt from him with a bright look.

The smile was wide as she turned the wolf head around to take it all in. “He made it after your own direwolf, he said. What’s his name?”

Jon nodded, a small grin on his own face looking over the hilt himself. “Ghost. When we found the direwolves, he was far away from the others, so quiet he never even made a sound. I have no idea how I even heard he was there.” His own memory fading back to when he first got Longclaw. Showing Ghost the hilt remade, and telling him with a grin how it was him. Even apart now only by a few miles of sea and land he found himself missing him.

Maege looking over the red jems as eyes with a fondness. “Gods, it is good to see this thing finally getting some use after all this time.” Starting to hand it back to Jon, it seemed he made a mistake with what he said next.

“It’s an honour, being given the chance to use your families sword.” The look she gave him now really reminded Jon of the way the Old Bear would look at him sometimes. Like the way he’d look him down as if to say to get your shit together.

She all but bashed it into his chest for him to grab. “Seven hells. Do you really think that man went to all the trouble of remaking the entire bear hilt, re carving it, finding jems for those eyes only beacuse he assumed you were borrowing it?” Rolling her eyes, there was a fondness in her eyes as she looked at him. “That sword spent over twenty years sitting up at the wall. Just mocking my brother beacuse it was just a reminder of how badly his son had disgraced this family.”

Shaking her head, she looked out to the water. A deep memory painting over her. “We all were sure it would stay up there until he died, and then it would just sit here in the Keep like some ancient artifact. But instead, he saw something enough in you not just to let you use it, but to give it to you.” Nodding to the hilt visible where it sat on his person. “He didn’t carve that wolf out so it could come back to us and just get re carved again. It was our families sword. Now, it’s yours. And whatever family you may decide you ever want. But don’t be fooled, Jeor gave you that beacuse he believed in you, and because you deserved it. You Starks seem to be pretty bad at accepting you’re allowed to deserve good things.”

If the emotional punch to the gut was noticeable in Jon’s hesitant pause, she didn’t point it out. But she did something that Jon had only ever been used to from you. So casually grouping him in with House Stark without a second thought because you never really understood the point of seeing him as anything but one of them. And that was a habit Jon knew for certain, Maege Mormont could have only picked up from hearing you, even after all that time, still group him in with everyone else no matter what the world tried to say.

You never shied away from the fact that he was a Snow, but you never once kept his identity in your mind separate from the Starks. Stannis Baratheon had offered him Lord of Winterfell to be an ally, and make him a Stark in name. Something for years he always wanted.

And yet as you had stood there, telling him that the North, you, and that Robb had so easily decided they wanted him to be King in the North if anything happened to him. And that not once in that offer did you ever push him to take it, or that you wanted him to be anything but who he is. The fact that becoming a Stark wasn’t part of Robb wanting Jon to be King, he thought to himself, meant more then being made a Stark by someone else.

Because Stark or not, to Robb, Jon Snow was his brother no matter what. And being King after him didn’t require a formal deceleration of becoming one of the family. It was strange for Jon at this point in his life to realize that the brother Jon always thought was better and got a better deal in life, truly loved him with no hangups or clauses attached to it.

It was a Southern King that said only Jon Stark could be Lord of Winterfell. But it was his own brother who wanted Jon Snow to be King in the North after him.

And for some reason, all Jon could think to do in that small moment by himself, was to smile. It was always odd in his heart how much you had always seen Jon for exactly who you knew he could be, but it was a whole other thing to start realizing that the North he grew up in, just might be coming to that same conclusion as well.

But as he stood there, the storm clouds still debating amongst their own if it should bring rain over the setting sun, he thought of almost nothing but Robb. He wasn’t there to protect him when it mattered most, but Jon knew he needed to do more to protect what of Robb’s was left.

Wherever his brother was now, Jon hoped that Robb trusted him with his wife. Because in the year since losing him, Jon knew you were left in a confused insurmountable amount of grief and pain that was only soaked in more blood and new torture. Leaving you in a darkness all alone, and someone needed to force you out of that pit before it took you away again forever.

You trust me with your kingdom, his silence spoke. Eyes slipping closed as he stood in the quiet, hoping Robb could hear his prayers. Now please, trust me with her heart. She fought in a war beside you, but this time, someone needs to be the one to fight for her, someone needed to stand in front of her, and tell her it’s okay to let me protect her.

You kept away from Jon because you were terrified of forcing things or feelings onto him that your tormented mind worried would no longer exist. But this pain between you was all out in the open now. You were honest and so was he. You needed someone to protect you instead of forcing you face these demons all on your own.

Jon hoped the crashing of water against the rocks, and the cold wind swirling around as it flew through his thick curls, was Robb answering his prayers with his blessing. Because Jon was going to do it anyways.

Walking to where you were to stay for the night, you felt mentally drained. The Mormonts were far too lively of a bunch to handle in your current state, and too many questions, looks, and stories being thrown around. Already before even reaching the door, you begun unlacing everything with the intent to throw it all on the ground like a petulant child.

But as you slipped into the door, you could see Jon leaning against the wall of the cozy room by the window. Your mind noticing the long grey shirt you normally never saw under the black and leather atop it, with some of his other things gently draped along the desk. Pausing without closing the door, you narrowed your eyes “I assume I’m in the wrong room.”

“You’re not.”

His voice was deep, but steady as his grey eyes were bright looking to you. Slowly you shut the door behind you, a confused furrow in your brows as you looked at him. Jon watched you with something so much softer then anything the past number of days, a look he was unafraid of letting you see in full opposed to the heavily guarded state you were still in.

Taking only a few steps in at a time, you slowly placed your own sword down beside his against the wall before finding yourself not knowing what to do. “Am I allowed to ask why in a place this big I can’t be trusted with my own room?”

Jon’s chuckle was deep, and a small smile full of a fondness as he met you more in the middle. Even as he was dressed down, and you still dressed properly you felt small in comparison. “Maybe you just can’t be trusted to get a decent sleep all on your own.”

A lightness in your chest burst out before you could even contemplate the playfulness in your eyes as you said it. “Funny thing to say, coming from a man who used to barley manage getting more then five hours half his life.”

He watched you for a second, stripping you down of those barriers without a word before gesturing for you to put your back to face him. Not considering that you just followed that silent command without any question until his hands gently started to undo the rest of your outer layers. Trying to look back at him confused, “I can do this part just fine, you know.”

The hum in your ear sent a small shiver down your spine as he rasped. “So why are you letting me?” You could see the edges of his curls in the side of your vision but you had no answer for that other then to stand in the quiet and let him.

When you were just a tinge lighter, Jon stepped closer, so lightly running his hands down your arms you almost felt lightheaded at the sensation. Somehow so warm against the cold of the night air, your body relaxed enough to find the courage. “Jon, about the other night-”

You almost gasped, feeling his chest press closer to your back, his voice rasping but soft, hands soothingly still running up and down. “Don’t apologize. You asked me a question, and I yelled at you for something you couldn’t possibly have known. You didn’t deserve that, so let me be the sorry one.” A weight in your chest sunk down, a sting behind your eyes as you nodded. “Good. Because I want you to listen to what I’m about to say.”

He was braver then you, but if you weren’t such a coward, you’d be temped to reach one of your hands to to grasp his. “Okay.” Only a breathless whisper came out.

Jon’s voice was as full of something heavy as you could feel in his heart. “Robb doesn’t want you to feel this alone. You loved each other, and you always will but he doesn’t want you to hate your life after him.” His hands stopped moving, but one of his thumbs continued to run across the fabric over your arm. “And you are not ruining my life by being here. I never thought I’d get the chance to even see you again, but now we’re both here. And maybe the gods wanted it that way, maybe it just is the way it happened to work out by chance but I can’t just stand back and watch you try to push me away because of what’s broken up here.”

One hand moved to gently tap at the side of your head, as you tried to pull away at the sensation. Only as you reached back to instinctively swat at his hand, Jon caught it in his, bringing it down to wrap your arm across your stomach still holding onto it, and pull you closer to him. “What I said, about you being with Ygritte I never would have....had I known I wouldn’t have never suggested it.”

Jon nodded against the back of your head, “Well now we both know. That’s what you were doing earlier right? Laying our cards out on the table for them to see, make sure they understand exactly what they would be getting into?” You nodded, your heart speeding up a bit. “I thought I lost you once, but this time I’m never going to stop fighting for you. You deserve to have someone who loves you, but if you don’t want it, if you don’t want me like this,” The hand on your arm sliding up gently to trace over the sensitive skin of your neck as you shook out an exhale. “I’ll never push you for anything, but we cannot hide from each other anymore. You need to tell me if you don’t want this, but not beacuse you think you don’t deserve it or because you wrongly think I don’t want you.”

You felt ready to cry if you were being honest, he made this too easy. To slip into a need to be close to him and not want anything else. “I will always love Robb,” Jon nodded as your eyes fluttered shut but when your heart didn’t steady you had to say it anyways. “But that never stopped with you, either.”

His hands on you tightened the slightest, as you let out a small sigh when his lips so gently pressed to your neck. Jon’s tone husky as he spoke into another gentle kiss, “Will you let me do something for you? Is it alright if I make you feel good?”

Heart about to explode, your mind so lightheaded you could pass out. Not sure if you could handle the roughness like that one night, not sure if it was a wolf at all you could take but you nodded. You trusted Jon.

He didn’t push you further, he wanted to be gentle it seemed. Running his lips so gently over your neck without ever pressing any firmer, and his hands didn’t grow rough in their touch as Jon gently pulled back enough to pull your shirt up and off your chest.

Dropping it where it lay, you shivered from the cold as he reached both hands down past your breasts to slowly run along the edge of your pants before pushing you to the bed, “Sit down for me. Let me take care of you.”

As you turned to sit, you could see the grey in Jon’s eyes was dark enough to look almost black as he carefully pulled the material off your body. Kneeling down before you as you were perched on the edge of the bed, he ran those same eyes all over your body with an intensity as you sat bare before him, still totally dressed.

Gently, your hands reached out. One running along the edges of his curls before dancing across the scratchiness of his facial hair, the other finding his shoulder as you sat up straighter. Your breaths growing in heaviness as you both watched the other carefully. Jon finally returning the gesture, running both of his hands along your cheeks before leaning up.

Your lungs stopped in the swiftness of the movement, your eyes fluttered shut only he didn’t close the gap. Only traced the length of your nose with his, keeping you so close you could feel his breathe until he could sense the nerves simmer back down inside you. Both thumbs running over your cheeks as he exhaled shakily. “Doesn’t seem real sometimes. Being allowed to have you this way. Spent all my life knowing I’d have to give you up and it never got any easier.”

Your hand ran through his hair more like a comb, nails raking smoothly along them but never tugging at each more wild tangle. Keeping his forehead pressed to you. “Do you remember what we talked about, that last night in front of the Weirwood?” Your brows narrowed trying to recall it, as you unintentionally drew his attention away as your nails scratched his scalp more. Jon pressed into you further, a distracted but satisfied hum deep in his chest almost like that of the wolf usually found at his side finding his voice again. “Talking about how we’d meet in a different life?”

Slowly, Jon started to move his hands down. Keeping just as close knelt before you, but slowly letting his hands run down your neck and over your shoulders as his voice was a gentle rasp. “We were way off, weren’t we? Castle Black is a far cry from Highgarden.” Tracing his fingers over the sides of your breasts you tensed at the spark of touch, “It’s also far too cold to be summer. But maybe this as good of a new one as we will get.” With a touch as light as a feather he ran his thumbs over both your nipples, almost jumping at the feeling.

Your eyes opened to drift down to his shirt, the edges just far enough that you couldn’t see the mark over his heart even though Jon could see the one on your stomach perfectly. Your eyes slipped back shut however, as his rough hands more fully grasped at your breasts, and the spark underneath swam more throughout your body and into your blood.

Sighing out high pitched, one of your hands slipped from him to grasp at the sheets below while the other wrapped more around the back of his neck into his curls. The movement naturally pulling your chest better up to his own level so one hand of his reached to hold steady at your hip before moving back to the task at hand. Opting to press his lips lightly to your collarbones.

Moving down slowly until the hand on one breast twisted so he could pull your nipple between his fingers as his mouth gently nibbled at the other. Your gasp far louder then the quiet of the room but it only spurred him on to bite a little harder, the other hand twisting a little firmer.

His last touch was so desperate, so raw and rough, that you felt dizzy in his arms this time around from how almost teasing it felt in comparison. Groping a little greedier as his lips found the same path until you let out a needy hiss at a harsher bite. Pulling back though, you gripped his hair a little tighter at the loss but Jon only gently shushed you. “Lay down for me,” Trying to move to the main part of the bed he pulled you back by your hips, climbing up only enough to push you to lay down where you sat. Legs dangling off the side of the bed. “No, no, stay just like this, right here.”

Kissing your neck gently you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be soft with you or if this was just a true cruel tease to draw out on your body. “Jon,” Holding back a whine as he let his mouth trail back down to your breasts this time with more soothing presses of his lips and tongue to soothe the stinging bites he left. “Can I-”

“No.” Your eyes shot open in surprise, but he only moved finally down between your breasts to kiss along your sternum. His facial hair scratching along your skin, the rawness mixing with his gentle touch making you want to whine. Barley letting his lips leave your skin long enough to speak. “I don’t want you to do anything,” You could have cried a how lightly he ran his lips along the scar before pressing a kiss to the very top of your mound. “I just want to taste you.”

You swallowed heavily, his hands moving to your thighs as you felt a strange beating in your heart like nerves. “I don’t..why would you-”

Trying to soothe your nerves he rasped, “We’ve done this part before, darling.” You could remember the feeling, but it was so sudden, so animalistic you could barley comprehend it at the time in between the shock of him even standing before you. “Am I the only one to ever do this with you?” When you nodded, he kissed the same spot before kneeling on the ground where you could feel his breath between your legs.

Jon kept it to himself, but he felt proud of himself for still being able to find ways of being your first after all these years apart.

Slowly moving your legs to rest over his shoulders, Jon grasped at your hips to keep you steady before kissing a path up your inner thighs. One side, then the other as you let a needy whine out. Jon never once wavered, keeping his mouth always attached to something between your legs until a small kiss was left to your clit. The second you cried out at the feeling, the desire spilled over for him.

Jon sucking your clit with his own need this time, before moving to run his tongue flat down along your folds. Humming in his throat as he licked right back up as he held your arching hips in place. Eager brushes gently at your clit in between nibbling grasps between his teeth until you were shaking in around him and you were soaked from it. Those same gentle brushes of his tongue moved back down, and finally letting him move his mouth to your cunt as he wanted.

This time, it was a bit more as you recalled. His facial hair burning between your legs as he kissed and licked inside of you. Only instead of a starving, vicious wolf, he was licking and drinking everything you granted his mouth as if between your legs was treasured oasis crafted only for him.

Your head fell back into the sheets as you moaned, small whines along with it of his name as your hands grasped the sheets beside you. Between your own breathlessness, all that was heard in the room was the soaking sounds of Jon’s tongue inside of you.

Never rushing it, never even trying to push you to an orgasm. Only drinking between you with a slow, steady pace that had you trying to not let tears fall out from how good it felt. Letting a hand dance up to gently run though his hair, he held a bit tighter and made what felt like a vibrating growl into your cunt at the sensation you tested the waters and did it again, to the same reaction.

Moving your hips to pull more into his mouth you were almost lifted slightly above the sheets as you cried out, the core inside of you burned so hot and twisted so tight but he just kept such a slow pace, such a leisurely taste that it never reached it’s peak just when you thought it may.

Your breathing almost a faint hyperventilating as you almost couldn’t get any air he pulled it all right out with each brush of his tongue that ran along such sensitive walls. His nose nuzzling against your clit that had you cry much louder, back arching more but he just ran his tongue inside of you greedier then before.

This was for you, but it also was for him truly.

You weren’t really sure how long he kept you there, but it was a while. Quite a while, like he couldn’t stop himself from leaving between your legs. Each time you were poised at an orgasm he would pull back, slow down until you calmed down in his touch and once more his mouth would return to licking you back to that peak and take it away again. You already had lost count how many times he had done it.

It was long enough that even in the cold air, you felt a sweat forming over your body as you knew there too were tears at the side of your eyes spilling over. “Jon, please, gods please you’re so good..”

You weren’t even sure what you were saying but it made him shudder against you. Finally, in what felt like the slowest growth of your orgasm yet, this time as Jon’s mouth and tongue coaxed you to that edge he let you fall off it. Your core snapping with a pleasure of only his name and his arms keeping you pressed firmly against his mouth.

You writhed against him as the sparks jolted your entire body and he just kept between you, taking everything you gave him with greed until you were jumping at the stimulation. Finally, Jon pulled away, kissing your clit, then your mound and once more your scar before leaning up over you.

Hovering just above, his eyes were blown wide open and pitch black, his own lips swollen and soaked as just looked down to you. “Jon..please..kiss me?”

Eyes closing, he shuddered before shaking his head no. Swiftly moving up the bed, Jon pulled you into his arms, laying more on his side and keeping you cuddled into his chest while you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. His voice was raspy and deep, northern accent strong and thick as it slurred together into your own neck. “If I kiss you now, I’m going to lose it.”

Running your hands through his hair, your brows narrowed. “It’s okay-”

“It’s not okay.” Sighing out as he clearly was trying to keep something contained as you only cuddled in his arms, him trying not to push you right back down and let his cock fill up your soaked cunt that very second. “Rest for me, darling. Just for tonight.” If he was talking to you or himself, it was difficult to tell as he mumbled into your hair, “I’ll always take care of you.”

It was easy to fall asleep in his arms. Jon was warm, and never once let you out of his grasp. Keeping you in a safe bubble only encompassed by him.

Jon wasn’t lying, he knew if he kissed you while you were bare in his arms, in a bed after already having spent well over two hours tasting you? He would have shoved you down onto the bed, spread your legs wide and fucked you deep, as many times as it took until he had absolutely nothing left to spill inside of you, but he wanted to take his time. He already took you like an animal, now he wanted to ease you back into it with a tenderness, with love.

Despite trying, he, himself didn’t sleep very much that night. It was hard to sleep when he was too busy enjoying how soft and pliable you were in his arms. In your sleep, your hand drifted up to rest along his heart and he pressed a hand there to hold you against him gently. Kissing your hair once more before giving himself a chance to at least try to get some sleep. One thing had not changed since your early years together at least.

It still took an immense amount of will power for Jon to treat you with a gentle innocence when you made the wolf in his blood run hot and possessive at all times.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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lupinmoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

Submission Part 4: Edge

Masterlist AO3 Submission Part 1 Submission Part 2: Establishing Rules Submission Part 3: Obedience

Summary - You sit in Professor Lupin's lap as he edges you with his fingers. You end up losing your v-card to him as well. (5,013 words)

Warnings - smut, teacher/student relationship, heavy D/s undertones, professor/sir kink, rules, fingering, LOTS of "good girl" and "Yes, Sir", age gap obviously, loss of virginity, teasing, edging, mentions of bruises and marking, very light innocence kink if you squint, choking, my grammar (english is not my first language).

Notes - This is not proof-read. So sorry for being MIA. I was burnt out from university and stuff. I still am but I wanted to finish this. I also have 5 hours of sleep left before I have to get up as I am writing this lol. This one is a bit different as I tried to incorporate more of how Remus feels and thinks.

Left alone in the quiet confines of his quarters, Remus sat back in his armchair, his mind racing. He was more than aware that what he was doing was dangerous, was wrong. He was aware of the risks, the potential fallout if you were ever discovered. His career, his reputation, everything could be destroyed in an instant.

Yet, that day you came to him, desperate for guidance, for dominance, he couldn't say no. There was an undeniable attraction, a pull towards you that he couldn't ignore. He knew that if it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else. Someone inexperienced, someone who could take advantage of your vulnerability, your innocence, and it filled him with a protective rage. He preferred having you explore this part of yourself with him, in a safe environment where he could ensure your consent...or at least that's what he liked to tell himself.

Remus had always prided himself on his self-control, his restraint. He was known for his moral compass, for his respect towards his students. But with you, all his rules seemed to evaporate. The intoxicating mix of your innocence, your submission, your desire, was too overwhelming to resist.

Every moment of your encounter replayed in his mind as he sat in his armchair. Your flushed cheeks, your trembling hands, the way you'd looked at him with such trust and submission. The memory of you kneeling before him, of you looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, was enough to make him hard again. The way you'd whispered 'Yes, Sir', the vulnerability in your voice, made his heart race. He could still feel the softness of your lips as he grazed his thumb over them, the warmth of your mouth around his shaft, could still taste you on his lips...taste himself on your lips. The marks he left on your neck and back, a visible sign of your shared secret, would be a constant reminder of his dominance, of what you'd done, of what you were about to explore.

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the dark ceiling. He was in deep, and there was no turning back now.

You made your way to DADA the next day trying your best to look as normal as possible. You were normal after all, and no one had any reason to suspect you had been on your knees before Professor Lupin the night before, gagging around him and swallowing him down. You couldn't even let your thoughts wander there. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and walked in the classroom like the most normal student ever.

The moment you stepped into the classroom, his eyes fell on you. You did your best to look as innocent as ever, your eyes bright, your cheeks flushed with the morning chill. But the short skirt that hugged your hips, hiked up just enough to reveal laced stockings clinging to your thighs, told a different story, whispered secrets only the two of you shared. Your professor took a moment to appreciate the sight, practically devouring you with his gaze, his pulse quickening, his palms itching to touch, to explore. But no- he had to maintain his control- that was what you had asked of him, after all.

Throughout the class, neither of you could focus on anything else but each other. Every time he looked at you, his gaze lingered longer than it should, tracing the curve of your neck, the shape of your lips. He didn't care how obvious his stare was, how inappropriate it might seem, how predatory it was. He noticed the way your eyes lowered when your gazes met, the faint blush on your cheeks, the subtle shift of your skirt as you crossed and uncrossed your legs. Each small action was a dangerous dance on the edge of forbiddance. He wanted you, needed you. His mind was filled with thoughts of you. Of how he could take you right then and there, on one of the desks. And you, you would just bend over for him, self-respect completely forgotten, dignity gone.

After class ended, he found his voice, a low, steady command that made your stomach jump, your knees weak: "Y/N, would you stay behind for a moment?"

Once the room was emptied, the sounds of chairs scraping and students chattering fading away, you found yourself alone with him. He sat on the edge of his desk, his legs spread, silently inviting you to step into the space between them. The air was thick with tension, anticipation, the room suddenly too small for the two of you.

When you were within reach, he reached out, his fingers finding your waist, pulling you closer. He watched as your eyes widened slightly, your breath hitching as he pulled you against him. He could tell how he affected you, and he loved every moment of it.

"Look at me," he ordered softly, his gaze unyielding. When you hesitated, he repeated his command, his voice just a notch firmer, "Look at me."

Slowly, your eyes met his, hesitant yet trusting. His hand moved from your waist to your thigh, his fingers brushing over the lace of your stockings, causing you to shudder slightly.

"I want these on you tonight when you come to my quarters," he told you, his voice husky. It was an order, a declaration of what was to come. "Understood?"

"Yes, Sir", you whispered, your voice shaky.

He smiled at you, a small, appreciative smile with a softness only he could mutter. "Good girl," he praised. "Now go, and behave yourself today."

With that, he released you and you walked away, your steps slightly unsteady, feeling intoxicated by the power he had over you. The arrangement was not supposed to hinder your academic success- yet, your mind was consumed by the memory of kneeling on the floor of his quarters, his length hitting the back of your throat. Everything had become a blur since then. Despite the rules he had established for you, you would never admit to him he had such an effect on you, the fear of losing the sweet feeling of being owned, dominated, too intoxicating, too good.

You were not surprised by your feelings. You were a horny teenager, after all. Inexperienced, desperate, touch-starved. And there was something about the way Professor Lupin held himself that made you want to surrender completely. He was attractive, yes. But it was more than that. It was the kindness in his eyes that made you know you would be safe with him. His quiet strength telling you he could be in charge, take control, make it hurt good, make you cry, make you beg, all the while making you feel like he was the safest, comfiest place in the world.

Remus, on the other hand, had not anticipated the thrill he would be getting from this, from you. For the rest of the day, he had found himself caught in a heady mix of anticipation and unease, his mind never straying far from what was to come this evening, from what he wanted to do to you, with you. The knowledge that what you were doing was ethically wrong, taboo, only seemed to amplify his anticipation. He was acutely aware that he was crossing boundaries he had set for himself long ago. Yet, the intoxicating allure of the forbidden made every stolen moment feel even more intense.

Later that evening, in the silence of his quarters, Professor Lupin sat in his armchair, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the armrest. He was nervous, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. He felt like a teenager again, debating what he was going to wear. Did it really matter? He doubted his clothes would stay on long enough. Still, he opted for something casual- comfortable grey trousers, a simple shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a loosely tied tie hanging around his neck.

Your nervous knock on his door snapped him out of his reverie. He was by the door in an instant, pulling it open to reveal you standing there. Your eyes wide, and your cheeks flushed in a way that made his heart pound in his chest. You were dressed just as he had instructed, your short skirt revealing the laced stockings from that morning. The lack of any underwear was invisible to the eye but he knew, and the thought sent a jolt of excitement through him. Your blouse was slightly see-through, the white fabric revealing just a hint of the mark he had left on your back. You looked every bit the innocent schoolgirl that you were (or that you pretended to be), and yet undeniably alluring.

"Come in," he beckoned, stepping aside to let you enter. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, but not unkind, silently communicating his pleasure at your obedience. He guided you towards the armchair positioned opposite to his own.

"Sit," he ordered. You obeyed, your steps hesitant. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as you settled down on the chair, drinking in the sight of you in the outfit he had chosen.

"You look beautiful," he finally said. There was a note of genuine admiration in his tone, an honesty that was impossible to ignore. You couldn't help but blush. You wanted to return the compliment, but you couldn't find your voice, suddenly too nervous to speak. Your reaction did not go unnoticed and he gave a soft smile, satisfied with the effect he had on you.

"How was your day?" he began, his tone casual, as if you were merely two friends catching up yet his eyes were studying you intently.

"Fine, Sir," you lied hesitantly.

He noticed the hesitation immediately and raised an eyebrow. "Just fine?" He continued, his voice holding a note of intrigue. "Did you eat properly?" he continued.

You nodded, stuttering a "Mostly, Sir."

"And did you pay attention in your classes?" He asked. He knew the answer would be no, but he wanted to see if you would be honest with him.

You bit your lip, obviously flustered. "I...I couldn't concentrate...Sir."

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Couldn't concentrate?" He echoed your words, a hint of concern coloring his tone. "Did you complete your homework, at least?"

Again, you hesitated for a moment before responding a timid "I tried to, Sir."

There was a silence as he digested your words, his eyes boring into yours. "If this...arrangement of ours interferes with your academics, or your health, it will end immediately," he stated, his voice firm. "Do you understand?"

You nodded, a soft 'Yes, Sir' escaping your lips.

"Good," he approved, letting the stern façade slip away, replaced by an expression of anticipation. He took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him, the nervous girl in laced stockings, awaiting his command.

"Come here," he beckoned, leaning back in his chair and patting his lap. The command went straight between your legs. You hesitated, not trusting yourself to stand, but you obeyed, moving to sit in his lap. His hand immediately settled on your waist, steadying you. The other hand rested on your knee, his fingers gently tracing the fabric of your stockings until they reached the line of lace adorning the middle of your thigh. He let out a soft, approving hum as he appreciated your obedience to his request.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice lowering into a whisper, stirring a thrilling shiver down your spine. His hand slid further up your thigh, disappearing under your skirt. He let his hand wander even higher, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin, noticing the lack of underwear. You squirmed, your body arching instinctively towards him. Your movements elicited a soft gasp from him and you could feel his length hardening against you.

The hand that was resting on your waist snaked up to your neck and then reached to gently grab your chin, turning your face towards him, his thumb grazing your lips, pressing into your mouth. You obediently started sucking on it, your eyes never leaving his. The sight of you, eyes wide and innocent, your mouth working over his thumb, made his erection twitch in the confine of his trousers.

He slowly withdrew his thumb, trailing it across your cheek, before tangling his fingers into your hair, tilting your head back slightly. His lips hovered mere millimeters away from yours, your breaths mingling. "Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his voice barely more than a husky whisper. "Are you going to do as you're told?"

You nodded eagerly, unable to trust your voice again. He let out a soft chuckle, seeing how flustered he could make you with only a few words and touches. He tugged on your hair, pulling your head back just enough to expose your throat. He pressed the softest kiss below your ear, before sucking a mark there. His. His mark. His territory.

This was too much, you wanted more, needed more. You arched further into his touch, straining for a hint of contact, a fraction more pressure from his hand from his hand that had remained teasingly still under your skirt. But the man was not one to be rushed.

"Now, now. Have we forgotten our manners already?" he gently scolded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in an amused smile. His movements stilled completely, effectively freezing you in your tracks. He savored the sight of you: flushed, desperate, and teetering on the edge.

"Use your words, ask nicely," he urged you.

His directive sent a rush of warmth through you. You were flustered, your words stumbling out in a breathless rush, "Please..."

"Please, what?" he prodded, a soft chuckle escaping him again. The pleasure he took from your desperation, from your submission, was evident on his face.

Your lips parted as you drew a shaky breath, finally adding the one word he'd been waiting for. "Please...Sir," you stammered, your cheeks flaming as the words left your mouth. His eyes softened at your admission, his lips curling into a pleased smirk. Your squirms and tiny whimpers sent delicious jolts of pleasure through him, his hard length pressing insistently against you.

His fingers began to move again, trailing further up your thigh, ever so teasingly close to where you wanted him most. "Keep your eyes on me," he instructed you, watching as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Stay still," he ordered, letting his fingers dance around the most intimate part of you. The most desperate whimper escaped your lips, a sound that was music to his ears, pushing him to the brink of control. You involuntarily arched into his touch, making him withdraw his hand abruptly.

"Did I not tell you to stay still?" he reminded you, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Good girls listen, remember?"

"I...I'm sorry, Sir," you managed to stammer out. You felt his hand around your waist tighten, anchoring you firmly to his thigh, not allowing you the satisfaction of grinding down on his fingers. This was his game, his rules, and you would have to play by them.

Satisfied with your answer, his hand disappeared beneath your skirt again, your breath hitching in anticipation. His fingers ventured further up, tracing the damp path his touch had created until one finger pressed at your entrance. His eyes studied your reactions, your pupils blown wide with desire, your chest heaving. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice steady despite the clear arousal in his gaze.

"Yes...Sir," you panted, your voice trembling with need.

His finger pushed further inside you, a low growl escaping his lips as he felt your warm tightness clench around him. His thumb began to trace lazy circles on your clit, his touch maddeningly slow. Your hands instinctively clenching onto his shirt, desperate for some form of stability. Your knuckles turned white with the effort of staying still. He set a steady rhythm that had you trembling, your body fighting the urge to move, to chase the pleasure he was so expertly teasing out of you.

He continued his rhythm, bringing you to the edge of release only to stop abruptly. He was enjoying this too much, the control, the power, the trust you had placed in him. He could feel his arousal pressing into you, the tightness of his trousers now bordering discomfort. But he ignored it. This was about you, about taking care of you, making you feel good.

"Sir..." you whimpered, the loss of contact making your hips buck up in search of his touch. But he held you steady, his hand on your waist keeping you in place. His rhythm was cruelly timed, just enough to build your anticipation before denying you release.

"Please...Sir," you cried out, the words a desperate plea.

He chuckled, his voice laced with an edge of amusement. "Poor thing," he cooed, his voice dripping with feigned sympathy. "Look at you, so needy. Can't hold on any longer?"

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, ashamed of yourself for being so desperate, so vulnerable. But in this moment, it didn't matter. You were so close and you didn't want to dare reaching that sweet release without his permission.

"Tell me, what do you want?" he asked, pulling his fingers away once more and smirking at the whimper of protest that escaped your lips.

You were a blushing mess, your eyes pleading with him as you struggled to find your voice. "P-please...I n-need...," you stammered, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yes?" he prodded, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the evident arousal in his eyes.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before speaking again. "I-I need to...to come, Sir. Please..." you admitted.

A low growl rumbled in his chest at your admission, the sound sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. "Good girl," he praised. His finger, slick with your arousal, ventured back inside you, this time adding a second one. You gasped at the stretch, the pressure, but he kept his pace slow, steady, letting you adjust to the feeling of being filled.

"Relax," he instructed, his fingers moving in rhythm with the steady circling of his thumb over your clit. Your body obeyed, relaxing into the touch, and soon his touch was robbed of all gentleness, setting a pace that had you panting and moaning beneath him. The relentless assault had you whimpering, your mind focused on nothing but the waves of pleasure he was eliciting from you.

"Let go," he encouraged, a soft whisper in your ear. "You're such a good girl...let go for me."

With a final whimper, you let yourself succumb to the pleasure, your body convulsing in his hold as you rode out the waves of your climax. Your body arched into his touch, your hands clutching at his shirt. He didn't stop his movements until you slumped against him, completely spent.

"That's my girl," he praised, a note of pride in his voice. He withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to your lips. His eyes met yours with a silent instruction. You obediently took his fingers into your mouth, cleaning them with your tongue, your taste mingling with the salty remnants of your climax. He watched you, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of you, flushed and sated and completely at his mercy.

"I think," he said in a low, husky voice, "we should move this to the bedroom." You swallowed thickly, your pulse racing, but nodded, letting him guide you up on your feet.

His room was a reflection of him. A large, comfortable looking bed sat in the middle, the sheets rumpled and inviting. Dark wood furniture filled the room, bookshelves lined the walls. There was a distinctly masculine scent to it, a mixture of parchment, leather bound books and something else, uniquely him.

He led you to the bed, his hand warm and steady on the small of your back. You could feel his gaze on you, it was heated, predatory. "Sit," he commanded. You obeyed instantly, perching on the edge of the bed. He stood in front of you, your eyes at the perfect level with the bulge in his trousers.

His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer. "I want you to see what you do to me."

His grip in hair tightened, the sweet pain making you gasp, your lips now mere centimeters from his erection clearly outlined against the fabric of his trousers. You could feel your cheeks burning at the sight. It was a powerful thing, to know that you could evoke such a reaction from him. It was intoxicating.

He took a step back, his gaze taking in your shivering form. His hands reached out towards the buttons of your blouse, the touch making you flinch slightly. His fingers worked slowly, undoing each button with meticulous care. "Relax," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm as the material fell away, exposing your delicate skin.

Reaching behind you, he unclasped your bra with practiced ease, discarding the fabric with a flick of his wrist. You trembled, exposed and vulnerable, yet you held his gaze. His hands traced down your sides, stopping at the hem of your skirt. "These," he stated, his fingers ghosting over the fabric of your skirt and stockings, "stay on."

He gently pushed you, guiding you to lie down on the bed. His figure loomed over you as he positioned himself between your trembling legs. Your professor, still clad in his clothing, a cruel barrier between your bodies, pressed his hips into yours. The friction drew a sharp gasp from you, and you instinctively tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He was quick to catch you, his hand cupping your cheek, forcing your gaze back to him. "Look at me," he commanded. His hand slipped from your face, down to rest on your throat, his grip just tight enough to make you swallow nervously.

He stilled, studying you under him, his thumb pressing ever so slightly into your soft skin. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper against the silence in the room. You wanted him to dominate you, to control you, even if this meant giving you permission to breathe. Your response was instinctive, your hand reaching up to press on his, urging him to tighten his grip. But he simply smirked at you, "Use your words."

You swallowed, your eyes flickering with a mix of fear and anticipation. "Y-yes, Sir," you stuttered, the honorific rolling off your tongue, only fuelling his arousal. His thumb pressed deeper into your skin, feeling your pulse there.

Maintaining the pressure on your throat, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The tenderness of the action stood in stark contrast to the dominance he held over you, the grip on your throat sending jolts of pleasurable fear through your body. Breaking the kiss, he moved to straddle you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Deliberately, he began to loosen his tie, pulling it free from his neck and discarding it with a carelessness that had your breath hitching. He started on his shirt next, each button revealing more of his toned chest. Your eyes widened at the sight of his bare skin, your mind foggy with the realization that you were probably the first student to see this part of him. Sure, no other student had been on their knees gagging around him, but seeing this part of him, like this, felt different. It was more intimate.

He caught your wandering gaze, the corner of his mouth curling up in amusement. He took hold of your hands, guiding them towards the buckle of his belt. You hesitated, your eyes darting up to meet his, silently seeking his approval. A low chuckle escaped his lips, "Go on," he encouraged.

Your hands trembled as you reached for his belt, the metal clinking softly. Once you had the buckle undone, you moved to his trousers, pulling them open to reveal his black boxers. Your hands froze at the sight, your eyes looking back up at him, uncertain.

"Keep going," he reassured you. You swallowed, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, letting his erection spring free. He shifted back, pulling his boxers off completely before settling back between your legs. His bare skin against your was a new sensation, a very welcomed sensation. It felt warm, strangely soft, and safe.

His tip brushed against you, teasing your entrance, yet he made no move to push forward, causing you to whimper softly, your breaths coming out in short gasps. He stilled, his dominant façade melting away for a moment to reveal the gentle, kindhearted Remus Lupin you knew so well. He looked down at you, his gaze soft, "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He lifted his hand to stroke your hair comfortingly. "We can stop at any time if you're uncomfortable."

You loved that he was so caring, you felt safe, but you also wished he could read your degenerate mind. You didn't want him to be so gentle, so attentive. You wanted him to be rough, to use you, even if it was your first time. You shook your head- no, you absolutely didn't want to stop- a breathy plea of "Please, Sir," tumbling from your lips. Your hands came up to his shoulders, clinging to them in anticipation. The sight of you, so willing, so eager under him, had him teetering on the edge of losing control.

He started pushing in, slowly, agonizingly slowly. A groan escaped his lips, the tightness around him was almost too much. You held your breath, the unfamiliar feeling of being stretched causing you to tense up.

He paused, fully sheathed within you, giving you time to adjust to his size. His hand moved to your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, "Breathe, love. Relax," he instructed gently.

At your needy whimper, he began to move, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching in your throat. Your small noises of pleasure spurred him on. "You feel so good," he groaned, his hand moving up to cup your breast before resting on your throat once more, pressing down just enough to slightly restrict your airways.

You arched into him, your body begging for more. "H-harder...please, Sir," you begged, your words coming out breathlessly. His heart pounded in his chest at your plea. "Such a good girl for me," he praised, his movements becoming harder, driving you into the mattress.

He moved his hand to your hair, tugging harshly to expose your neck. His lips descended upon your exposed neck, sucking a possessive mark into your skin. His other hand slipped down, tracing the line of your thigh, over the lacy stocking that clung to your skin. "Mine," he growled, the statement punctuated by a particularly harsh thrust. His grip tightened in your hair, pulling you closer to him as he buried himself deeper within you. His rhythm was relentless.

Your breaths were becoming shallower, your body tightening around him. He could tell you were close, so close to that edge he had brought you to earlier. His movements became rougher, more aggressive as he began to lose himself in the pleasure of the moment. "Please..." you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your bodies coming together.

His body was coiling tighter, the pleasure mounting as he thrust deeper and harder into you. "Come for me," he rasped out, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. Your body tightened around him, your moans growing louder as you neared your second climax of the night. "That's it, good girl. Let go."

With a final thrust, he stilled inside you, his body tensing as he spilled his seed within you. The pulsing sensation was enough to send you over the edge, your climax washing over you in waves. You clung to him, struggling to catch your breath.

He remained still on top of you, your bodies pressed together, intimately connected. "Good girl," he praised, his lips brushing against your cheek as he planted soft kisses on your flushed skin.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he looked down at you. Your body felt heavy, exhausted. You could only manage a weak nod in response, your eyes still half-closed.

"Did I hurt you?" he pressed, his gaze lingering on the mark he had left on your neck. You shook your head. He watched you carefully, his eyes studying you for any sign of discomfort or regret. All he saw was exhaustion and bliss.

Slowly, he pulled out of you, the action causing you to let out a soft whimper in protest, leaving you feeling oddly empty. You barely registered his movements as he got up from the bed, only becoming aware of his absence when you felt the warmth of a cleaning spell between your legs. Your skirt and stockings were discarded, your body tucked under the comfort of his bed sheets.

He settled next to you, pulling you close to him, cradling you in his arms as he murmured softly "I've got you." He kissed your temple, the action tender and loving, a contrast to the intensity of what had just happened. As much as you loved being manhandled, owned, dominated, right now, this is what you needed. His heartbeat, steady against your ear, was the most comforting sound you had ever heard.

You knew this was not going to last forever, the reality of things pulling you out of your post-climax bliss. You would have to go back to your dorm soon, pretend to be a good, innocent little schoolgirl. But for now, you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, the warmth of his body lulling you to sleep.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #professor remus lupin #remus lupin smut #d/s #remus lupin x you #smut

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